This was said in a distracted murmur as they passed a burned-out building tucked along one of the outer walls. Her fingers curled in until her fist was resting uncomfortably on his forearm, and she snatched it away, her attention on the ruins. It was rumored that Lyon Oliphant’s wife had died in a fire which had given him his scars.
Was the heap of burned rubble, now covered in a dusting of snow which did little to hide its menace, where it had happened?
She had twisted in her seat, her attention still on the remains of what must’ve been a stable, when Lysander halted the team in front of the stairs leading up to the keep. He hurried to help her down, and she tilted her head back to stare up at the imposing old edifice.
“I do hope your brother will agree to help me.”
Lysander was nodding as he helped her down, then hurried her up the stairs to the old landing. “I’m sure Lyon will be thrilled to welcome ye to Oliphant Castle.”
She was just as certain the reclusive man wouldn’t, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask if she could take a peek at his collection.
At the door, Lysander pounded on a door knocker which looked as if it had been added only within the last generation or two, and Bonnie continued to study the structure. She knew the castle had been built in the medieval period, so it was in remarkable condition, despite its initial dilapidated appearance. The fact it was stillstanding, let alone inhabitable, told her it had been well-maintained.
But there likely is not hot running water.
She’d become accustomed to that luxury while staying at her brother-in-law’s home.
A cold wind swept the courtyard just as the door was finally pulled open, and she was met with a surprisingly young man wearing a friendly smile, dozens of freckles, cloths wrapped around his hands, and trousers.
And nothing else.
Bonnie averted her eyes.
“Hello, Keith. We’re here to see Lyon. Dinnae try to tell me he’s no’ home, because?—”
The young man—pugilist? Butler?—chanted along with Lysander, “Where else would he be?”
Still smiling, Keith pulled the door open. “Well, come in then. He’s no’ expecting ye, but why would he? He’s in his study. Need me to show ye the way?”
“I remember,” Lysander intoned wryly. “Ye should put on some clothes before ye scare the respectable folk.”
Rather than being made uncomfortable, the young man’s grin turned cheeky, and he tipped an imaginary hat to Bonnie, who was determinedlynotlooking below the freckles sprinkled liberally across his cheeks. “Plus, I’ll freeze. Good luck, Sander. Ma’am.”
And then he turned and started for the rear of the house, whistling as he began to unwrap the pugilism cloths.
Bonnie was about to ask about him—what kind of servant addressed a guest by a nickname like that?—but as Lysander led her into the foyer, she realized she was, in fact, standing in afoyer.
And Keith had, indeed, headed off toward the back of thehouse…not “medieval ruin.”
Someone had renovated the interior of this building—at least this level—to a remarkable standard. It wasn’t standard architecture of course, but as they passed a cozy parlor, Bonnie could see it was completely usable.
Then Lysander led her up a set of stairs, through a door, up another set of stairs, and spread out to her right was what must have once been the medieval great hall. Someone in the last hundred years had made an effort to restore it, clearly, but the empty grand hearths still dominated the room, and the stone floor was covered with faded rugs and no furniture.
This cavernous space obviously wasn’t being used, and Bonnie couldn’t blame Lysander’s brother. The only thing she could imagine it’d be good for these days would be as a ballroom, and even then, it would be a beast to heat and light.
If she lived here, she’d wall it off and ignore it, since it was huge and empty, and would suck up so much heat.
You do not live here. Kindly remember that before you begin to redecorate.
Right.Right.
She was here to make a good impression so Lyon Oliphant would share his resources with her.
Up the stairs, they entered a much cozier hallway with closed doors off to each side. Lysander led her unerringly to the far end where he knocked on the door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.
Bonnie followed him into what had to be a gentleman’s study, as evidenced by the modern furniture, the shelves of identical ledgers, and the large wooden desk. And just as soon as she could look at the rest of the room, she was certain she’d be very impressed.
But for now, her brain was one-hundred percent occupied looking at the man behind the desk.
