Free Sandra Hill by Love Me Tender Page B

interesting.”
    Naomi’s lips thinned at the perceived insult as her eyes bored into Cynthia and her fingers tightened on the gun.
    “I can see that it must have been magnificent at one time,” Cynthia backtracked.
    “And it will be again,” Naomi asserted. “I’m going to restore every one of its one hundred and three rooms. And the gardens. And the pool. And the stables.”
    One hundred and three rooms? Incredible! “But that would take a fortune,” Cynthia blurted out before she had a chance to bite her tongue. She sensed, too late, that Naomi wouldn’t want to hear any criticism of her beloved castle.
    “Right. The fortune I’m going to gain once the Ferrama stock goes public. Provided, of course,that nothing and no one interferes with the success of that venture.” The look of determination on Naomi’s face bordered on the fanatical, sort of like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction . Except that Naomi’s obsession was with a piece of rock, while Glenn Close’s had been with a piece of c…well, Michael Douglas. Cynthia began to reassess her opinion of the woman. Earlier she’d thought Naomi was dangerous because she was half-baked. Now she feared that Naomi might do anything, even kill a hard-nosed stock trader, to achieve her goals. Cynthia would have to be very, very careful.
    As Naomi prodded her forward toward the castle entrance, Cynthia asked, “Where does the prince fit into this whole scheme?”
    “Screw the prince,” Naomi said.
    Yep, I’ll second that .
    “He’s all part of the TCB,” Elmer hinted in contradiction.
    Screw the TCB, too .
    Dusk began to settle over the mountains as the four of them trudged carefully, single file, over the rotting drawbridge. Just then, a million bats swooped out of the upper towers like black sheets fluttering on the wind, which set the hounds to wailing in long, doleful bellows.
    It was not a pretty sight or sound.
    What kind of castle was this, anyhow? And who was Prince Peter Ferrama if this was the best he could do for a palace?
    Something is hinky in this kinky kingdom .
    And where, pray tell, is the royal fink?

Chapter Four
    “ Welcome to my world… ” Elmer serenaded Cynthia later in a husky Elvis croon, then immediately amended, “…ah, our world.” He threw his arms wide to encompass her new “home” for the next three weeks.
    Naomi and Ruth had gone off briefly to do whatever needed to be done when establishing residence as the sole inhabitants of a hundred-and-three-room castle. Cynthia was being held in one of the forty-eight bedrooms of the castle, many of which were named after early twentieth-century moguls who’d visited the mansion built by zillionaire railroad financier Henry Fowler.
    “There’s the Rockefeller Suite, the Gould, the Morgan, the Vanderbilt, the Stuyvesant…” Elmer explained with pride, like a tour guide. “Your…uh, domain is called the Frick Suite.”
    “How appropriate! But dontcha think the Frick ’n’ Frack would be closer to the mark, considering the circumstances.”
    Elmer tsk-ed his disapproval of her sarcasm. “We gave you the best room in the castle.”
    Cynthia glanced around the huge chamber, impressed despite herself. The odd thing was that only one wall of the suite, a combination bedroom-sitting room, had been restored, just as only one side of the castle’s exterior had been refurbished. Antique wallpaper so finely detailed it resembled silk damask, a beautiful Aubusson carpet in a delicate floral pattern, fine embroidered bed hangings, gilt mirrors and original oil paintings in the landscape style of the Hudson River artists: all these decorated the room, but just the one side. The remainder of the huge room sported faded, peeling wall murals, a smoke-stained, ornately carved walnut fireplace, bare inlaid wood floors and battered Empire furniture.
    The same was true of the rest of the palace, or as much of it as she’d seen thus far. The entryway was spectacular, with its Italian marble