Romancing the Duke (Castles Ever After #1)(13)

“It wasn’t for sleeping,” she told him. “At least, it wasn’t for . . . that. This would have been the castle’s great chamber. The medieval lords conducted business from these beds, the way kings sit on thrones. That’s why it’s raised on a platform and built to such an impressive size.”

“Fascinating.”

“My father was an expert on these things.” Izzy approached the bed, peering at the hangings. She pulled a face. “It looks as though the moths have feasted on these tapestries. What a shame.”

“Yes. And the rats have had their way with the mattress.”

Rats? Izzy jumped back. She put her hands over her face and peered through her fingers at the bed enclosed by shredded hangings. Yes, the mattress had been disemboweled—its straw and horsehair contents strewn about and arranged into . . .

Oh, goodness, those could be nests.

If she stared hard enough, she could have sworn she saw the rotted straw moving.

She forced herself to say, “Snowdrop will be happy. And very well fed.” A distant moaning startled her. “What’s that noise?”

He shrugged. “Probably one of the ghosts.”

“Ghosts?”

“This is a borderlands castle, Miss Goodnight. If you know about castles, you should know what that means.”

“I do.”

Gostley Castle’s original purpose would have been to quell Scottish rebellion. Quelling rebellion meant capturing rebels—and not to keep them as houseguests. There was no telling how many people had been imprisoned in this castle, even tortured and killed, over the centuries. By the duke’s own ancestors, no less.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said.

He smirked. “Give it a night.”

Night. It would be nightfall soon. Izzy’s stomach twisted in a knot at the thought.

“I take it you’re pleased with your accommodations.” He leaned one shoulder against the archway. “ ‘Pleased’ isn’t the word.”

The word was something more like “horrified.” The thought of spending the night in this room reduced her insides to a quivering, whimpering puddle.

But she couldn’t let on. That was just the reaction he hoped for. He wanted her to run away.

This would have to be home for tonight. Rats and moths and all.

She forced an enthusiasm she didn’t quite feel. “I’m sure this will make an enchanting bedchamber, with a bit of work and imagination. The proportions are majestic. The bed only wants a new mattress and hangings.” She walked to the row of windows. “And there’s a lovely view of the sunset.”

“For those who can view it.”

Izzy winced, regretting her insensitive comment. “I could describe it for you.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve seen sunsets.”

“But you haven’t seen this sunset.”

The prospect from the window was breathtaking. The cloud-covered sky had fragmented into puffs of gray, alternating with swatches of vibrant blue and rosy orange. From this vantage, one could see the castle walls rambling through romantic evening mists that curled all the way from the sea.

“The sun is setting just beyond the tower. But ‘setting’ is the wrong word for this. Too peaceful. This sun is struggling. Going down like a bloodied fighter in the jaws of a great, stony beast.”

Heavy footsteps carried him to stand behind her. “Has it disappeared yet?”

“Almost. One final flash of gold, as it slips into the beyond, and . . .” She released her breath. “There. It’s gone.”

“There’s a rule about sunsets in this castle, Miss Goodnight.”

“There is?”

“Yes.” He turned her to face him. “And a man and a woman standing in this very place are compelled to heed it. No choice. There’s only one thing to be done.”

“What’s that?”

Her pulse stumbled. Surely he couldn’t mean to . . .

He lowered his head and made his voice a seductive whisper. “Duck.”

Duck?

She was still blinking at him in confusion when a strange sound tugged her attention aside. It sounded like . . . a great amount of wet laundry, flapping on the line in a stiff breeze.

She turned away from the window.

Oh, Lord.

Before her eyes, the vast bed canopy seemed to come alive. First, it began to shimmer, then to ripple—like a quicksilver cloak caught by the wind.

Then small pieces of it began to break away, one by one, each following the other.

“Oh, no.” She stiffened. “Those can’t be . . .”

They were.

Bats.

An entire colony of them had been roosting in the highest reaches of the canopy. Now they took wing one by one, then ten by ten . . . and then hundreds all at once.

She turned—just in time to see another black, swarming cloud pouring down the chimney. There must have been thousands.

And all of them were flooding straight for the windows.

“Duck,” he repeated. “Now.”

When she didn’t immediately react, the duke wrapped his arms about her and hauled her toward the floor.

In seconds, the bats were everywhere, swarming above them in a roiling black cloud. Izzy ducked her head and took the shelter he offered. His chin tucked hard on her head, and she could feel his whiskers rasping against her scalp.