The Ravencliff Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

of anything physical between them—he’d made that quite plain. She would have to guard herself. Such a onesided attraction could mean only heartbreak, and she’d had her fill of that.
    “Is something amiss?” he asked.
    “N-no,” she replied, “It’s just . . . all this seems unreal somehow. A sennight ago I was eating moldy bread, and some anonymous, maggoty swill that passed for stew; was dodging rats, and foul, unsavory jackanapes in that place . . . and now this. You must be patient with me. It will take time to adjust.”
    “You weren’t . . . harmed?” he said, his brows knitted in a frown that cast his eyes deep in shadow.
    “No, not physically,” she said. “But keeping abreast of the dangers was a challenge.” That hadn’t changed. There could well be more danger right here at Ravencliff than there ever was in the Fleet—rats and rogues notwithstanding.
    “Have you any pressing questions before we adjourn?” he said.
    Sara opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it, causing his eyebrow to lift. She had many questions, and more kept cropping up, but this was not the time to voice them. She wondered if there would ever be a time. He studied her in his inimitable manner for a moment, before folding his serviette and setting it beside his plate.
    “Very well,” he said. “I shall summon Mrs. Bromley to show you around the manor. After your tour, do take a moment to look at the tapestries. I think you will find them . . . consoling.”
    That would have to wait. A silent command passed to the butler only moments earlier brought the housekeeper before they’d risen from the table. After sketching a dutiful bow, Nicholas strode out of the room and disappeared in the shadows that lurked everywhere—day and night—in the old house.
    Mrs. Bromley was an excellent tour guide. In less than an hour, they’d visited the dining hall, morning room, several sitting rooms, the parlor, library, and music room on the first floor. While pointing out a green baize-covered door beside the grand staircase as they started to climb, the housekeeper didn’t offer Sara access to the servants’ quarters that it marked; it was inappropriate, and a breach of household etiquette for the master or mistress of the house to venture below stairs.
    The second floor was comprised of bedchambers and suites of rooms like her own. Each followed a theme as well, and but for poking her head in for the purpose of identification, the tour of these was brief. When Sara started toward the third-floor landing, the housekeeper held her back.
    “Ya can’t go up there, my lady,” she said. “That part o’ the house is restricted—it ain’t safe ta go poking around up there. Storm damage has weakened the upper part o’ the house over time, and the master don’t want ya goin’ up and comin’ ta harm. His suite is the only one in use up there anyway. The rest has been shut up since his father died. The whole third floor will come down one day—granite rock or no—you mark my words. Why, the master’s chamber is the only turret suite on the sea side up there that ain’t lost its roof ta the gales.”
    “Why on earth would he want rooms in such a dangerous place with so many fine chambers down here on the second floor to choose from?” Sara asked, thinking out loud.
    “I dunno, my lady, he’s a creature o’ habit, the master is. He’s had rooms up there since I come here twenty-four years ago, when he was a lad o’ twelve. He likes ta keep ta himself.”
    “How old is the house, Mrs. Bromley?”
    “Ta hear him tell, they carved it outta the cliff out there. Built it outta the same rock around the time the Normans come, at least its roots go back that far—maybe farther, for all I know. It’s changed over time, o’course. It started out as a keep, then over the years it become a monastery, an abbey, and a priory, amongst other things at different times. More rock was quarried as time went by, rooms was added,