"Briarwood by J A Hitchcock" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hitchcock J A)

Amberly sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve, then walked to the balcony doors. She pushed them open and stood on the balcony. She raised her face to the sky, eyes closed. A sob escaped her lips as the sun's warmth dried her tears and gently caressed her face.

* * *


He watched from behind a large tree. He had wondered where the house had come from, then he had seen her. Nothing else mattered after that. He quieted his horse as it stamped the ground. His grey eyes watched the woman on the balcony. He had never seen such beauty before, even as she cried to the sky.

He looked back at the castle. He could hear the distant music from the fair. And he heard his name being called.

"Prince Lionel!"

"Yes, yes," he muttered to himself. "I hear you."

He rubbed the horse's neck and picked up the reins. The woman was looking towards the castle, confusion in her eyes.

"Farewell, lovely maiden," he whispered softly, then turned his horse around.

* * *


Amberly's head jerked at the sound of a horse's whinny. She looked towards the ruins of the castle. She saw the flicker of a horse's tail and for a moment she heard the music of flutes and mandolins floating over a disappearing mist.

"I'm either dreaming or going crazy," she whispered to herself, then turned to walk back into her bedroom.

She froze. A rose lay on the balcony railing. She reached for it.

The rose was deep red with dewdrops clinging to its barely opened petals. Its thorns had been removed. Amberly inhaled its fragrance as she looked at the castle ruins. She hugged the rose to her chest, then went into her bedroom and softly closed the balcony doors.

* * *


Amberly was a hit at dinner, as usual. Her red dress, with its vee neck in front and back, showed off her ivory skin, shapely figure and raven hair. And it hid her bruises well, as did the artfully applied makeup. The pearls around her neck shone in the candlelight.

Amberly smiled and laughed when it was appropriate. She always kept up on the latest news, so she jumped in on most of the conversation throughout dinner. She even told a few jokes, much to the delight of the guests. The cornish hens were cooked to perfection, the vegetables stylishly arranged on the blue and white china, all served by the catering service in short order and with not one problem. Applause arose when dessert, Bananas Foster, was lit. The best wine had been brought up from the wine cellar and met the approval of everyone sitting around the long mahogany dining table. Richard beamed with approval as compliments about his wife, the dinner, and the house were bestowed upon him.

"I cannot believe how much work you put into this house, Richard." One of the older men, Arthur Cranmore, vigorously puffed on a cigar as the Bananas Foster was served.

"I'm just glad the former owners, the Martins, had a caretaker keep an eye on the estate after they moved." Richard smiled. "An old friend told us all about it and a day later it was ours. What a steal!"

The guests fell silent. Richard looked at them one by one.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Richard, dear." Arthur's wife, Marion, cleared her throat. "Didn't you wonder why this house was empty all those years?"

"Not really." Richard shrugged his shoulders. "The caretaker said the owners moved to the United States."

"Warren Martin moved there, alone." Arthur corrected Richard. "The old boy just didn't have the heart to sell it. When he died last year and no heirs made claim to it, the house went on the market. You were the only one interested in purchasing it."

"I don't understand." Amberly leaned forward, curious.