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"It's magnificent," Quinn replied then stopped and took a moment to savor the sight. God, she loved it here: loved what she now thought of in her heart as hers. Derek was ahead pushing open the old oak door and when she walked over the threshold she had the same feeling she always had: I am finally home.
Derek was pacing around the great hall shaking his head. "There is not a damn thing in here, nothing." There was disbelief in his tone as he turned his attention to Quinn. He didn't understand her passion for all things old but he sure as hell liked looking at her. He wanted her in his bed, had for a long time, and maybe this trip he would get lucky in more ways than one.
"Maybe we should find some place to stay."
Derek's voice startled Quinn since for a moment she really felt as if she was all alone in the hall. He was watching her with an odd expression on his face when she turned to look at him.
"I think I want to stay here."
His expression was incredulous. "Here? There's nothing here. What are you going to sleep on?"
There were, in fact, things here but apparently nothing that held Derek's interest and more than likely because nothing gleamed of silver or gold and, at first glance, none of the paintings looked to be lost works from the greats. Instead of arguing with Derek, Quinn instead announced brightly, "I brought a sleeping bag."
"There's no electricity or heating. You'll freeze to death. It gets quite cold at night."
This wasn't the first time she'd slept in the castle. In fact, if Derek knew just how often she had escaped life to hide out here he would probably think she had lost her mind. She wasn't about to share her secret so instead waved off his concern. "It'll be just like camping."
"I'm not staying here," Derek huffed.
"That's fine but I am." She didn't wait for his response before she headed to the car to grab her stuff.
He followed after her as she strode to the car to retrieve her things.
"Are you sure you're okay with staying here by yourself? There's a bed-and-breakfast in the village," he cooed.
"Yes, I'll be fine. I've slept in far worse conditions."
He didn't doubt that, she was hard core.
"What will you do for food?" he asked.
"The village is not two miles from here, Derek, an easy walk. Really, I know this isn't what you signed up for so go, I'll be fine."
He stared at her for a minute realizing that his seduction was going to have to wait since as much as he wanted to sample that lush, little body he sure as hell had no intention of sleeping on the damn floor. Maybe after a day or two she'd come to him eager for a soft bed and a warm body to snuggle up to. Being a gentleman, he would certainly oblige her.
"All right. I'll check on you in a few days," he offered before he started towards the car. "If you need anything, call me."
"Okay."
Quinn watched until Derek turned the car around and disappeared down the hillside before grabbing her bags and walking the distance back to the castle. Once inside, she placed everything in the hall before she started to roam around. She knew how every room looked and realized Derek had a point. Because the castle was left abandoned, people had looted it through the years and most of the furnishings were gone but it made no difference to Quinn.
The front door opened into a little vestibule that led into the great hall where two walk-in fireplaces flanked the room. She knew the fireplaces vented outside the castle walls, modern thinking for the builder of the time, and had on more than one occasion lit a fire to keep herself warm during her visits.
On the walls were tapestries, though their colors had long ago faded, and as hard as she had studied them she had never been able to recognize their images. There was an old rectangle trestle table that sat upon a dais with two long benches that could easily fit ten large men on each side. She walked past the table into the buttery where the kegs of ale would have been kept and further down into the large kitchen.
It was a very modern kitchen for the day with two fireplaces, large butcher block tables for food preparation, a pantry dug into the dirt floor where the temperature would be colder to keep food from spoiling as fast. On the back wall of the kitchen was a door and as she stepped outside she always imagined a kitchen garden planted where herbs and root vegetables grew.
She turned and headed back to the great hall and took the stone steps up to the next level. On this floor, Quinn knew there was a receiving room, a morning room, the lord and lady's solar, and a music room. There was a long hall to the right that led to countless guest rooms and another circular stone staircase that led up to a large round room with windows all around the perimeter.
Every time Quinn entered this room she felt a wave of yearning so strong she had to stop and collect herself. She stepped up to one of the windows, pushed open the wooden shutter and looked out at the beautiful landscape that lay before her: one that she could see with her eyes closed. In the distance, she saw the small village and watched as the smoke from the cottage chimneys curled up into the cool evening air.
She closed the shutter and headed back downstairs where she wandered down another hall that led to the Lord and Lady's bed chambers: two enormous rooms linked by a common dressing area. One room was empty as it had been that first time she'd seen it. The second room, which she believed to be the Lord's chamber, had a massive carved oak bed, a few paintings, a fireplace and a beautiful rug covering most of the stone floor. Quinn always wondered why this room, unlike the rest of the castle, had not been looted. It was her guess that people feared the room because they felt what she felt whenever she stepped over the threshold, a presence, or if she was being fanciful, a ghost.
Whose room was it, for surely someone had called this place home once upon a time? The furnishings were consistent with the early 18th century. Had they been happy, had there been hordes of children and lots of family? And what happened here that it was abandoned, that everyone just up and left leaving it to suffer the years that followed in total isolation?
Quinn liked to make up her own theories. One such theory was that the place was haunted: the ghost she felt was the mistress of the house, murdered by an enemy of her husband, who roamed the halls looking for her lost loves. Or maybe aliens set down, since really aliens weren't limited to the future as Stonehenge was evident, and abducted everyone and the whispered rumor of the abductions kept people away. Or maybe it was something less dramatic. When the castle was in the midst of being built, maybe tragedy struck, the owner and his family were killed, and it left a dark cloud over the site that kept people away. It was really kind of sad because it was beautiful and someone at some time had spent a lot of money and time to build what should have been a home to his family for generations to come. Instead it had become a forgotten memorial to all those lost hopes and dreams.
She always stayed in this room when she visited because she felt closer to the past here and, in truth; she liked the ghost, always felt oddly content in its presence. Once her sleeping bag was setup with her battery operated lantern next to it, she made her way to the privy: had gotten pretty good at using it during her countless stays. She wondered, briefly, what environmental laws she was breaking but then dismissed the thought. She climbed under her sleeping bag and reached for her book but the long hours of traveling finally caught up with her as she shut off the lantern and fell into a deep sleep.
