Love for Lady Winter - Christy Carlyle Page 0,2

in her arms, the edges of her cloak wrapping around to warm them both. “Let’s get you both inside. I have some mulled wine brewing on the hearth.”

Mulled wine sounded delicious, but another sound captured Win’s notice. The music of the sea. On the air, there was a steady hum, and far off, the cry of gulls. She turned her head toward the sound and drew in a long brine-tinged breath.

“The sea calls to you, does it, my dear?” Aunt Cornelia smiled at her, and the curve of her lips reminded Win of the rare times her mother had been happy.

“I’ve never seen a body of water larger than the Thames or the pond behind Gissing Park.” She cast a questioning gaze at Aunt Elinor. “Might I take a walk to work the ache from my legs before coming inside?”

The two elderly sisters carried on an entire conversation consisting of pursed mouths, quirked brows, and the tiniest of nods.

“You must promise not to go far.” Aunt Elinor removed her shawl and settled the warm lavender-scented fabric around Win’s shoulders. “Darkness will fall soon, and there is quite a drop down to the beach.”

“Avoid the cliff entirely. We shall explore tomorrow. Tonight, I’d advise going no further than the tower.” Aunt Cornelia turned her face toward the sea and added, “Any closer to the cliff and the wind will whip that garment from your shoulders.”

“I promise. Just a short ramble and then I’ll come to claim my wine.”

As Aunt Elinor waved her off, she watched Win warily. The lady fretted over Win’s wellbeing as no one else ever had.

“I’ll be fine,” Win assured before pivoting on her heel and striding toward the horizon.

She filled her lungs, taking in deep breaths of the bracing Cornish breeze. The air had a luxurious thickness to it, dense with water and a unique green, salty scent. As she walked, the ground rose slightly below her feet and then began a sharp descent near the tower. She was curious about the structure. It looked as if it could have been part of an ancient fortress meant to fend off seafaring invaders, but her aunt claimed it had only recently been built. Perhaps it was an observatory for mapping the stars. Squinting into the waning light, she realized the facade was constructed of rough stones. They were of varying sizes and shapes, as if they’d been dug from the craggy ground beneath her feet. On closer inspection, she noted the tower wasn’t truly round either. More of a hexagon.

Through a misshapen portal, a set of stairs beckoned, sirenlike. Climb me. Explore the secrets inside. Win glanced back toward her aunt’s cottage. How long would it take to ascend and come back down? The biggest danger was getting caught up in staring out at the sea, watching the gulls circle and dive in the gloaming light.

She picked up her stride and headed for the stairs. But a few paces from the tower, the air began to change. Though the sky was clear and had been all day, a mist rolled across the ground. The chilly haze climbed, wending around her ankles, thickening with every step. By the time she reached the tower, she could make out little more than the patch of stone before her eyes and a gap where an oil lamp had been left burning.

An object whizzed past her ear. A moment later the plink of metal sounded at her feet. Win bent to get a closer look.

“Don’t touch that!” A deep male voice boomed from above.

Win jerked back and nearly lost her balance. Planting a palm on the ground to steady herself, her fingers brushed a then metal cylinder. She snatched her hand back and got to her feet.

“I told you not to touch that.” An enormous black-clad figure swooped down in front of her, the long raven wings of his overcoat flapping in the mist. Crouching on his haunches, he snatched at the grass before rising to face her. “My calibrations will be ruined.”

With his back to the seaside, the man formed a tall, bulky broad-shouldered outline against the red-gold sky. “What are you?” He leaned closer. Close enough for Win to make out dark brows, the wide slash of a mouth, and eyes far lighter than the crow’s wing black of his hair. “A sea witch? Some vengeful fairy come to spite me?”

His words sliced through her like an iced blade, leaving a cold, stinging pain in the center of her chest. She’d