Silver Hollow by Jennifer Silverwood Read Free Book Online Page A

completely mental.
    She was standing on a rain-stained red train platform. Well, more like a small boardwalk connected to a shed than a platform. Still , the moment had taken a turn for the worse. No conductor had appeared to escort her off and the doors weren’t easy to forcibly shove aside. Still she was grateful to leave the Orient Express. Her luggage sat idly beside her now. Turning the hood of her jacket up, she wrapped her arms around her chest to ward against the gusty north winds. 
    Squinting up at the sky , she was wary of the thick gray clouds rolling overhead and the near - absent sun. As of yet she hadn’t heard any thunder or smell any promise of rain. Did rain smell the same in England as it did in America? At least it wasn’t boiling hot here like it had been back home.
    Unbidden, thoughts of East Texas reminded her of the unfinished novel stored in her saddle bag. Impending deadline on her conscience, she longed for the days when she only wrote for herself. Storytelling was something she came by honestly, a gift from her father. Drustan had told her so many wonderful tales of the place he grew up. For a family which never owned anything more advanced than a record player, those stories and her imagination were all she had to thrive on. She learned later he had exaggerated greatly , of course. Her childhood fantasies were dashed the day she found that the place he had grown up was actually a small village in Northern England called Wenderdowne.
    Ever since then she preferred fantasy to the hard real world . That was why writing gritty paranormal romance thrillers had been so easy a dish to swallow. Something stirred from the twist of the crag above. Had the car finally decided to arrive? Amie turned from the empty train tracks and peered either way down the road behind the shed, but could see nothing other than a persistent fog. Rolling her eyes , she murmured, “Great. Now we’ve entered into a Gothic Romance. Bring on the Heathcliffs and Rochesters…” Her short laugh died the moment she saw the high head s of two dark horses and the black carriage behind them. “You have got to be kidding me…”
    The fog must have been playing tricks on her mind , because in the next moment the carriage was before her and the hunched - over man driving it tipped up his top hat with a gloved hand . “Afraid not , miss! So sorry to have kept you waiting! Hope it hasn’t been too long, aye?” His pale brown eyes twinkled brightly in his grizzled face.
    Amie managed to shut her gaping mouth and inclined her head to the carriage door. “I’m riding to my u ncle’s in that ?” There was no doubt this was the mysterious Henry’s doing. It was right up there with his strange letters and her father’s old stories. Insanity must run through the family.
    The man laughed and eased back in his seat. “Aye!” he said . “ ’ Tis the idea , miss. Least those were my orders from the Master. You are the Lady Jessamiene of Wenderdowne , are you not?” Even his horses stood quietly and inclined their heads towards her then.
    Amie blinked dumbly back. “Ah , yeah, I guess so, whatever Uncle Henry says,” she laughed. “Never imagined the old codger would give me this dramatic a welcome, though.” Noticing that the old man’s smile had turned a puzzled frown at her odd words , she changed the subject. Picking up her bags, she posed, “I’m guessing we have a long ride back?”
    Tipping his hat again to her , he draped his cape round his shoulders securely and said, “ Aye , suppose so , miss! But a Lady such as you shouldn’t handle so heavy a burden. Eddie! Ye fool lad , get round and do your job!”
    Amie bit back a grin as the carriage shook slightly and from behind stepped a fancily dressed boy who seemed ten years her junior. A cap constrained the thick ruddy hair falling over his brow. When he lifted his chin, his eyes flittered to meet her bold stare. He bowed his head low, before she could get a better