Free Blurring the Lines-nook by Roni Loren

rock beneath them. Shafts of light broke through the clouds and touched
     the island with long, bright fingers, illuminating things in a haphazard pattern,
     leaving some parts darkened and other parts glowing. But even in the dappled sunlight,
     it was impossible to miss the island’s centerpiece—a large European style castle that
     stood sentry over the pristine land below.
    “Did we take a wrong turn and end up in Scotland or something?” Gretchen asked, her
     eyes never leaving the view. “That’s quite a setup.”
    “Yeah. I don’t know much about the guy who owns the island, but I read that he had
     the castle built when he bought the land. Apparently, it’s authentic. He had the pieces
     shipped here from somewhere in Europe and reconstructed.”
    “Damn. That seems like a lot of work and expense.”
    Burke shrugged. “Bored billionaires can get up to all kinds of weird shit. And it
     seems this one is more eccentric than most. Not many people get to meet him.”
    “Is that who invited you?”
    He frowned. Was it? He had no idea. It’d been more like the island itself inviting
     him. “I just got an invite to check the place out. So all I know is that our expenses
     are covered. Beyond that, it will be an adventure for me as much as you.”
    “Prepare for landing,” Joely announced. “Looks like the storm finally gave us a break,
     but the waves are real choppy. Could be bumpy setting her down.”
    Burke leaned back in his seat, and both he and Gretchen checked their seat belts.
     The dread still lingered in him as they made their descent, but anticipation for what
     the week could hold pushed out the grim thoughts. He would get a week with Gretchen,
     complete with white sand beaches, a fairy tale castle, and an unlimited budget. If
     he couldn’t get her to relax and enjoy herself here, then they were a hopeless cause.
    So as he held her hand and watched the ocean get closer and closer to the plane, a
     smile touched his lips and a buoyant feeling filled his chest. No more worrying. This
     would be good.
    But that hopeful, airy feeling lasted about thirty seconds.
    Because one minute they were easing downward, and the next, they were hitting the
     waves with the force of a car crash. Wham! Luggage tumbled. Metal groaned. And the last sounds Burke heard were the buckle on
     Gretchen’s seatbelt giving way and the sick thud of her colliding with the ceiling
     as the plane landed hard on the unforgiving surf.
    He yanked off his own belt and launched himself toward her. But by the time he vaulted
     over the fallen luggage and got ahold of her, she was limp in his arms.
     
    ~
     
    Burke paced the cabana, one hand gripped in his hair, as he fought hard not to demand
     answers from the older woman who was leaning over an unconscious Gretchen. How could
     this lady be so goddamned calm? Gretchen was out cold, and they weren’t anywhere near
     a hospital. She could be seriously injured or in a coma or…God, he didn’t want to
     think about it.
    Dr. Magdalene sent him a look, her smooth dark skin wrinkling with something that
     resembled amusement. “You keep that up and I’ll have to give you medication. Take a seat and relax, young man. You have nothing to worry about.”
    He held a hand out toward Gretchen’s prone form. “How do you know that? Look at her,
     she’s—”
    “Taken a bump to the head. But she’s already on the way back to us. All of her vitals
     are fine, and her reflexes are responding nicely.” She draped her stethoscope around
     her neck, which seemed out of place against her brightly colored flowered dress.
    “Wait, she’s coming out of it?”
    “See for yourself.” Dr. Magdalene gave Gretchen’s arm a little squeeze. “Can you open
     your eyes for us, dear?”
    Gretchen stirred, letting out a small groan, and her hand clamped over her forehead.
    Burke rushed to the side of the bed. “Gretch?”
    “Hmm?” Her face turned toward him and dazed green eyes blinked his