Free To Tempt A Rogue by Adrienne Basso

limbs dotting the higher elevation while on the right was a dizzying drop into a rocky, jagged ravine.
    Perhaps the only odd comfort was a feeling of safety from highwaymen, for no thief or brigand would venture to this remote, uncivilized area in search of prey.
    Thankfully the coachman was an expert driver. Griffin would only have his best, most experienced servant undertake this challenging journey and Harriet was grateful her brother had ignored her protests and insisted on this escort.
    â€œThe horses have slowed,” Harriet declared. “We must be getting closer.”
    â€œOr climbing another hill,” Kate grumbled. “We should have stayed the night at that small inn where we stopped for luncheon. ‘Tis pure folly to have continued on this late in the afternoon.”
    Harriet ignored the remarks. Traveling shut up in the coach for so many long days had blurred the lines between mistress and servant, and Harriet would allow that the journey had not always been comfortable or pleasant. Exceptions must be made.
    While the maid sulked in the corner, Harriet leaned forward and pressed her nose against the cold glass of the carriage window. In the distance she could see the crest of an approaching mountain, but there was something slightly different about the outline. She squinted and saw shrouded in the clouds and impending darkness a structure perched at the very top, seemingly rising out of the land.
    Though it was barely visible through the mist, Harriet saw dark stone drum towers and turrets straining towards the blackening sky. The granite battlements and ancient design made it appear more fortress than home, but Harriet somehow knew this was their destination.
    â€œI believe we are nearly there,” Harriet whispered. The statement brought Kate out of her slump. She too pressed forward and turned her attention out the window.
    â€œWhere is it?” the maid asked anxiously.
    â€œThere, on the crest of the mountain.” Harriet pointed.
    Kate moved closer, her eyes eagerly following the line of Harriet’s arm. There were a few moments of silence, and then the maid exclaimed, “I still don’t see it. All that rests atop the mountain is a crumbling, abandoned keep. I’d never set foot inside such a terrible place. I’d wager the ghostly spirit of some long-dead Scottish warrior haunts those stone walls.”
    Harriet cleared her throat. “That is Hillsdale Castle,” she said. “I feel certain of it.”
    â€œWhat?” Harriet felt the older woman shudder.
    â€œYou must be mistaken, Miss. That can’t be it. It’s old and decayed, with nary a light burning in a window nor a fire smoking from a chimney. ’Tis a grand place for the devil himself to live, not a decent, Christian family in need of a governess.”
    â€œNonsense,” Harriet replied, although she was forced to agree that on initial impression it was a rather daunting place. “ ’Tis a medieval structure that still retains its proud history. I bet it is fascinating inside, filled with authentic antiques and huge fireplaces giving off lots of warmth. And the family has most likely done extensive remodeling to make it a more comfortable establishment, yet they have cleverly preserved the rich heritage and classic lines of the castle.”
    The maid shot her a disbelieving look, but said no more. As they made the approach to the steep entrance drive, the fine mist of falling frozen rain grew heavier. The steady, hammering tattoo of the hard pellets on the roof of the coach seemed to intensify the women’s nervous energy, and the howling wind jostled the vehicle roughly.
    Harriet gripped the edge of her velvet seat tightly to keep from being thrown to the floor. Kate did the same. Though it was gloomy in the carriage, Harriet could clearly see the panic in the maid’s eyes. She only hoped her own hazel orbs did not reveal the depths of misgiving she was