Ghost Walk by Alanna Knight Read Free Book Online Page B

moment, dear. He shouldn’t be long. Call back later, a couple of hours, say. He’ll be delighted to see you then.’
    She made that sound like an agreeable prospect and I was almost tempted to ask her if she knew Danny. However, at that moment, a young girl with the appearance of a serving maid poked her head out and enquired anxiously about the state of the oven.
    I left them to their domestic crisis. The sunny landscape beckoned and I decided to wander off and make the further acquaintance of these Eildon Hills. Another piece of legend, their mysterious depths and caverns were attributed as a peaceful sleeping place for King Arthur and his knights.
    I had to admit that the king and his noble lords had a very busy time back yonder in the Dark Ages, they certainly covered alot of ground across Britain from Cornwall to Scotland. In a time when travel was no easy matter apparently he and his knights had had as many resting-places as beds royal queens were alleged to have slept in.
    Eventually I climbed a path overlooking the village, little more than a sheep track which led up the hill. With the warm sunshine across my shoulders and an abundance of birdsong and shady trees, after wandering another mile, I came to a fence and, across a field, looked down on a large squat mansion nestling in a picturesque glen sheltered by the hills.
    It was not an imposing building for a noble residence, lacking the fashionable Balmorality that would have immediately rated it as a castle.
    Gates and a long drive between trees hinted at local aristocracy . A busy scene with a great deal of activity in the grounds, servants scurrying back and forth in front of the house. On sweeping lawns, awnings hinted at an important event about to take place. A family wedding or yet another manifestation of the Queen’s Jubilee celebration, perhaps.
    I was enjoying the scene. It would make a great drawing from this angle. I took out my sketchbook, balanced it against a post. Then I almost jumped out of my skin.
    A growl at my side and a sheepdog bounded towards me. This was no Thane. There was nothing of my mysterious gentle deerhound in the bared yellow teeth and the snarl that menaced me.
    Where was his owner? Even as I tried placating words like ‘good dog’ and wondered how I was going to convince this brute and get out of his way in one piece, a man materialised from over the ridge.
    He had the look of a gamekeeper and demanded: ‘What do you think you’re doing here, miss? This is private property.’
    Relieved at the presence of a human being, I apologised and pointed to my sketchbook. ‘I didn’t realise. I came over the stile –’
    His angry glare was quite unbending for a moment, then he began looking me up and down with a rather unpleasant leer that registered a change in his approach. As I turned away, pretending to ignore that hot look, he repeated: ‘This is private property.’
    I was truly scared now, aware of my danger in this isolated spot. Quite defenceless, miles from any help, faced with a fierce dog who continued to growl at me and a fierce man licking his lips in a very unpleasant manner.
    He came towards me, held out his hand. I backed away.
    ‘Come on,’ he said impatiently, ‘what’s that you’ve been drawing ? I want to see it.’
    ‘I haven’t started yet,’ I stammered, pointing to the house. ‘It’s – it’s a rather lovely view.’
    The man stared over my shoulder and said: ‘His lordship doesna like strangers on his property and he doesna care for artists either, unless he has given them permission.’
    ‘Indeed.’ I was feeling braver now, eyeing the dog who continued to regard me fiercely but had settled down at the man’s side, obediently awaiting his next command. ‘And how does one get permission?’
    His glance suggested a dog considering a very tempting bone. ‘Not from me, if that’s what you’re thinking. You take that up with the estate office in the village. See them about it.’
    I