Return to Charlock Sneak Peeks
“Gilford!” The deep voice boomed with deafening precision throughout the vast entry way. Trenton and I had returned from the river an hour before and met with the staff. A dozen new faces appeared on temporary loan from neighboring estates to accommodate the twenty-two guests invited to the Gilford Games, but the arrival of our first guest stole all our attention.
“Hastings!” Trenton met the man with a robust hug. Another man swiftly squashed him from the side. They laughed as they tried to squeeze the air from my fiancé only to release him before he passed out. They weren’t as tall as Trenton, but both could claim an inch or two in shoulder width over him. “Marlowe,” Trenton squeaked out as he struggled for oxygen. They all doubled over in laughter at a jest I imagined happened often. Trenton straightened and flashed a quick smile at my direction. The men didn’t miss Trenton’s target and immediately appeared at my side, each reaching for a hand and kissing my knuckles.
“And who might this lovely creature be?” Hastings posed a diabolic grin.
Trenton scrambled over quickly, breaking us apart by placing an arm around me, then extended one hand in a barrier toward his friends. They simultaneously barked a hearty laugh in response.
“Gentlemen,” Trenton smirked. “Though I can’t say that title is reflective of your behavior.” He cleared his throat. “Meet Kat Shelton, my fiancé.”
“Kat, this raucous chap is Oliver Hastings. Though he will only respond to Hastings.” He pointed to the first man who entered the room. His long blond bangs swept downward past his defined cheekbones as he took a low bow.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” he said as he tilted his chin toward me and offered another cheeky smile.
“And this mate is Ethan Marlowe. Also known as . . .” Trenton nodded my direction.
“Marlowe?” I alluded.
“You guessed it, Marlowe.” Trenton pointed to the other man who unlike Hastings, sported dark, curly hair and pierced me with his poignant blue eyes.
“Charmed, Miss Shelton.” He winked dramatically.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Trenton chuckled.
“Nice to meet you both.” I smiled in return.
“I must say, Gilford,” Marlowe watched us with one eyebrow raised. “I never thought I would see you so besotted.”
From behind, Trenton wrapped both his arms around my waist and spoke over my shoulder. “She didn’t give me a choice. She took my breath away the moment I met her.”
I chuckled. “I took your breath away, but only because I left you speechless after I railed you for wanting to sell Charlock?”
Hastings burst out laughing. “You have met your match, mate. Now where are the chits?”
“The women,” Trenton emphasized, “have not yet arrived. Come now, I’ll show you to your rooms and give you time to practice your manners before dinner.”
“I’m offended.” Marlowe retorted, placing his hand against his chest. “I happen to be a master of propriety, especially around the fairer sex. He shot another quick wink toward me; one that Trenton did not miss.
“If you say so, but this one,” Trenton squeezed me close, “is off limits to your so-called proprieties.”
“Very well, Gilford.” Hastings sighed dramatically. “Lead the way.”
“Cheerio, Kat,” Marlowe said as they grabbed their suitcases and obediently followed Trenton down the hallway to their assigned rooms.
***
I studied the grounds. With no one in sight, I could only assume the person bolted for the closest refuge—the stables. Regardless of our ride starting in an hour, I doubted anyone from our party would willingly come out this early in such a barrage.
Once past the heavy wooden doors of the stable, I pushed my hood back for better sight. Droplets fell to the ground all around me as I shook the excess water off me. The overpowering scent of horsehide and manure swirled about, but my focus remained. After wiping my eyes of the extra moisture, I tiptoed cautiously and scanned the stalls stealthily through the dimness. The gloomy clouds had prevented any natural light to stream in or aid in my search. Little sound surfaced aside from an occasional whinny from a horse, even the grooms hadn’t budged yet from their quarters above, but to their defense, they weren’t needed for another thirty minutes.
“Hello?” I called aloud, tamping down any hesitation that wanted to surface. “Is somebody out here?” I continued moving forward, but the squeaky sloshing of my rubber boots hardly concealed my approach.
I peered past each separation, beyond the horses, the gear, and the odorous bales of hay. When I reached the last stall, I stiffened in place. Gripping a pitchfork with both hands, the person in question, thrust it perilously in my direction. I jumped backward and gasped. “No! No, no, no!” The words slipped through my stuttering lips. This cannot be! Pulling my wet hair out of my face, I rubbed my eyes for further clarification while my heart pounded wildly through my chest. Long black hair clung to the woman’s face and against her wet garments. An all too familiar scowl formed on her mouth as she shoved the pitchfork forward, once more, in my direction. I hastily dodged out of range and threw my hands up in defense. Growling, she bared her teeth like a feral animal.
“Margaret!” I yelled. “Stop!”