Free Knight of Wands (Knights of the Tarot Book 1) by Nina Mason Page A

disinterest in the dungeon, “Where do you do your stargazing?”
    “The top of the tower.”
    The thought sent a shiver through her. He’d set up his telescope on the same tower from which his wife leaped to her death? How macabre, not to mention insensitive. To hide her disapproval, she said, “I’ll bet the views from up there are spectacular.”
    “They are, of the sea and surrounding countryside, as well as the stars,” he said, seemingly at ease. “Do you fancy a look when the storm clears out? Tomorrow promises to be a perfect night for viewing.”
    Even though the idea disturbed her, she said, “That sounds great.”
    Hamish, now carrying her bag, stopped at the top of the stairs and cleared his throat to draw their attention. When she looked over, the butler nodded her way.
    “If you’ll follow me, Miss.” Shifting his gaze to Callum, he added, “Mr. Faol would like a word, my lord, before he departs. You’ll find him in the library when it’s convenient.”
    Vanessa turned to Callum. “Is your friend leaving so soon?”
    “Only for the evening,” he replied. “Now, go on, get freshened up, and meet me back here in an hour.”
    When he started to break away, she pulled him back, unsure what to wear. Did they dress up for dinner here, like in Downton Abbey? “What should I put on?”
    “It doesn’t matter.” Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and planted a kiss on her knuckles. “Even if you put on an old flour sack, you’ll still look good enough to eat.”
    The hunger in his eyes told her he meant every word. Literally, quite possibly. She trembled, suddenly feeling like Red Riding Hood confronted by the wolf in her grandmother’s nightgown.
    My, Lord Lyon, what big teeth you have.
    All the better to eat you with, my bonny butterfly.
    She shuddered at the imagined exchange, wondering briefly if coming to Castle Barrogill was a mistake. Smiling through her trepidation, she pulled her hand from his grasp and followed the butler up the marble staircase and down a long corridor lined with paintings, weaponry, mounted animal heads, and electrified sconces. Eager to see as much of the castle as she could, she peeked through every doorway they passed. All the rooms were decorated in an eclectic blend of antique and traditional pieces in tasteful blends of florals, plaids, and paisleys.
    Each time she spied a deer head or fur throw, she prayed it was faux. As a card-carrying member of PETA, the SCPA, and the World Wildlife Federation, she was adamantly opposed to hunting and furs. Plus, those staring glass eyes gave her the willies. Had he killed the animals himself? She certainly hoped not.
    Taking a breath to cool her simmering indignation, she searched for something more pleasant to occupy her thoughts. Apart from the gruesome heads, the castle’s décor was elegant, comfortable, and masculine, without being overtly bachelor-pad. Had Callum done the decorating himself or hired an interior designer?
    Vanessa followed the butler through the last doorway on the right. A king-sized bed with a massive carved headboard dominated the spacious room on the other side. Fit for a modern-day laird, it was covered with an elegant paisley comforter and layers of shams and throw pillows. At the foot, a tufted leather sofa faced a fireplace with a carved oak mantle. A small blaze burned in the grate, adding to the room’s inviting ambience.
    Two windows draped in tartan graced the opposite wall. Beneath one, a matched pair of wingback chairs flanked an antique table. As her gaze returned to the big, manly bed, she imagined the two of them naked and entwined.
    Hamish set her bag on a luggage stand and left the room, closing the door to give her privacy. Opening her suitcase, Vanessa rummaged through the things she’d packed in search of the dress she’d dubbed her “little black Maserati”—because it hugged every curve with style and class. As she laid it out on the bed to smooth out the wrinkles,