Sully's Fantasy - Pepper Winters Page 0,10

at all. If he could live on an island like we do, I have no doubt he’d leap at the chance.”

“I think most people would.”

I grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles as the car slipped beneath the gatehouse with a huge crest of hawks fighting over something. An impressive seal for an ancient ruthless family.

“Well, who needs an ocean for a wall when you have a stone one?” I eyed up the entrance, the stone fortress snaking off up a hill and down a valley. The long driveway climbed through meadows and woodlands, weaving left and right, hinting that the estate we’d arrived at went on for miles and miles.

“This is where they live?” Eleanor gasped as a herd of deer bounded through the shrubbery, scampering off in a flash of perfect choreographed leaps. “It’s stunning.”

I nodded. I’d never visited Hawksridge Hall, but I had researched Jethro when our medical conversations turned friendlier. I had no trust when it came to people, and research was always a great way of arming yourself with everything you needed so you weren’t surprised when they betrayed you.

I’d seen the rumours of debts and contracts over one house and another. I’d heard the gossip about diamond collars and beheadings. And I’d seen the photos of their exclusive castle that put any king or queen’s residence to shame.

“Would you rather a beach or brocade?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at my wife. “I can build you a fancier villa than the one we share with sugar gliders and Komodo dragons, you know. Just say the word, and you can live in a palace.”

She rolled her eyes, pinning me with a look that called me stupid even if she didn’t say it out loud. “Do I look like I want brocade?”

“Sitting in this car, surrounded by expensive upholstery, you look positively trapped.” I flinched, seeing the truth of such a sentence. I’d never seen Eleanor in a city environment when we first met. I’d dragged her to my shores and trapped her on my islands and fallen in love with her all while she was dressed in bikinis instead of ball gowns, but the truth was...the wildness inside her—the sun glowing from her skin, the oceans swirling in her grey gaze, and the sand still sparkling in her hair—hinted that she’d always been unfit for cookie-cutter houses and concrete office blocks.

That was probably why she’d had a love of travelling...so she could find the place where she fit in.

Thank fucking God, it was with me.

Undoing her seatbelt and dragging her onto my lap, I brought her mouth to mine just as we crested the hill. I kissed her softly, our lips moving in a well-known dance even as our eyes stayed locked on the massive monolithic hall that took up the entire horizon.

Turrets and lattice grass wound through stone bricks, hundreds of windows, thousands of arches, gothic downpipes, and a roof designed like an intricate puzzle.

We pulled apart as the car drove around the huge water fountain and parked at the bottom of sweeping stairs leading to a medieval wooden door that promised pain and power the moment you stepped over its threshold. Every inch of this place from the groomed gravel, immaculately pruned gardens, and hulking hall ensured visitors were well aware that ordinary men didn’t live here.

Monsters did.

Eleanor pulled away, her eyes wide as a butler appeared, opening the massive door and standing prim and proper as he waited for us to ascend. “Suddenly, I really, really miss Goddess Isles.”

I ran my fingers through her hair, letting her climb off my lap as our driver came to open our door. “We can turn around if you want.”

She shook her head. “No, you’re here to see a friend.” Flashing me a smile, she added, “And besides, I’ve never spent a night in an ancient hall before. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun or haunted.”

“If there are ghosts in there, they’d better stay far away until we leave.”

A black crow flew past as we climbed from the car, its midnight wings glistening with a wicked sharp beak that could kill any rodent or prey it spied. My mind instantly went to Pika and Skittles. They’d been pissed we’d left them behind, but at least, they wouldn’t become lunch.

“Welcome, Mr and Mrs Sinclair.” The butler descended a few steps, his youngish face stern but polite. He kept his brown stare on the driver as he lifted out our small amount of luggage. Just one bag between Eleanor and myself.