Some Enchanted Waltz by Lily Silver Read Free Book Online Page A

Tara wiggled the tips of her fingers, peeping out from the heavy linen bandages swaddled over her hands. Her fingers were still pretty numb and stiff, but she could probably pull off the hunt and peck method. They had to at least have a computer in the lobby. All hotels had them in lobbies now.
    “Welcome to the Hotel California,” the Eagles song echoed in her mind. “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”
    Not Hotel California, but Hotel Ireland. She learned that when she tried to question the maid who delivered her breakfast tray. She could only manage the word ‘where’ amid her garbled speech. The maid informed her she was a guest at Glengarra Castle overlooking the Bay of Bantry in County Cork, Ireland. At least they spoke English here--sort of. It was hard to understand Maggie’s accent and her queer way of phrasing things.
    Terror didn’t begin to explain the gnawing in her gut as her eyes darted about the stately room filled with antique furnishings. Geez, there wasn’t even a freaking television. Usually they were hidden in the wardrobe closet in the fancier hotels. Her wardrobe closet was empty save her few belongings.
    Fear was making her queasy. Tara didn’t want to vomit again, because she'd have to use that quaint porcelain pot under the bed to throw up in because no one seemed to understand her request to be taken to the restroom. There wasn’t a bathroom attached to her room, which, while odd was logical in an ancient building such as this. The hotel owners wouldn’t want to risk losing their Historic Registry standing by knocking down walls and drilling holes through stone floors to install modern plumbing in every guest room. Still, a phone would be nice so she could ring room service.
    Definitely not a five star experience here, despite the rich furnishings.
    Fatigued from her trek across the room in search of a phone, Tara returned to the bed. She clutched the velvet coverlet in her bandaged hands, ignoring the tears stinging her eyes. So, she was stuck in a hotel somewhere in Ireland with no memory of how she came to be here. And no credit card.  Damn. They’d be kicking her out of here real soon. 
    As Tara sat clutching the covers and worrying about the hotel concierge demanding payment for this lavish Irish holiday, there was a sharp rat-a-tat-tat at the door.
    Oh, God, here it comes , she though, steeling herself for the confrontation.
     A tall, dark haired man of about thirty entered the room. His clothing was odd, like he’d just stepped off the stage set of a costume drama. Ignoring his peculiar clothing, she focused on his face. A peculiar feeling of déjà’ vu swept over her as she gazed into his steel gray eyes. Was he the hotel manager or the tour guide? Did he know her?
    The young maid, Maggie, followed behind him as if he were royalty. 
     “Tara, you’re awake at last. Cora tells me that you are upset. What is it you need, my dear?” His tone was reassuring, kind. He didn’t seem upset about the hotel bill.
    “T-T-Tele--phh-phoooon?”
    His elegant dark brows drew together.  “I don’t recognize that word.” He said in a rich Irish brogue that tantalized her overworked senses.   
    With supreme effort, she lifted her bandaged hand to imitate holding a cell phone to her head, the baby finger pointed at her mouth, thumb at her ear; something so simple, so universal, yet completely beyond these people. She pretended to push buttons on her bandaged palm with her forefinger, then held the imaginary phone up to her ear again, forcing out the word, “H--h-h-helloooo” while the trio peered at her in silence.
    The old maid snorted like a worn out nag. “Keeps doing that, sir. I’m guessing the lass is all about in her head.”
    “That will be enough.” The man chastened. “Take Maggie and be gone with you.”
    “Yes, Milord.” The two females chimed, each bobbed a curtsy to him and then dutifully vacating the room.  
    Tara gaped at him