Tower of Shadows by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online

dissatisfaction.
    The little he'd said indicated that his stepfather had been deeply
    emotionally involved with Isabelle. If so, it was more than
    probable that he was the father of her baby.
    My father, Sabine thought. Which would make this Rohan some
    kind of relation, legally if not by blood.
    The thought made her shudder, but the fact that he hadn't referred
    to the ghastly possibility himself made her wonder if Isabelle had
    kept her pregnancy a secret from the de Rochefort clan. But why
    should she do such a thing — an unmarried girl who would
    desperately need help and support—especially from her child's
    father?
    It made no sense at all, but she was too tired and emotionally
    battered herself to rationalise about it any more. She would get
    some rest, and face the whole problem in the morning.
    Her sleeping-bag looked forlorn in the middle of that vast bed. She
    shed her clothes, and slipped quickly into its impersonal embrace.
    But, weary though she was, sleep remained elusive at first.
    Her thoughts kept returning obsessively to the Chateau La Tour
    Monchauzet, and its master. They might be hidden behind their
    curtain of trees, but she felt oppressed by their proximity just the
    same, as if they were standing guard over her.
    The picture on the card was deceptive, she thought drowsily. It
    showed a fairy-tale palace, but in reality it was Bluebeard's Castle.
    And when at last she fell asleep it was to find herself in the
    chateau, running endlessly through a labyrinth of rooms, searching
    for something that was always just beyond her reach. While,
    behind her, on silent feet, a dark man with hooded eyes stalked
    her. And waited.

    She woke with a headache, but then nightmares always had that
    effect on her, she thought moodily, as she showered, and put on
    shorts and a sleeveless top.
    She cut a wedge from the loaf, spread it with cherry jam, and
    carried it, with a mug of coffee, on to the terrace. The air was cool,
    the grass was damp with dew, and there was a faint mist hanging
    over the nearby fields. All in all, it promised to be another
    heavenly day, she thought, feeling her spirits rise almost
    perceptibly. And no nasty dream was going to spoil it for her.
    A small brown lizard scuttled across the flags, and paused for a
    moment, at a safe distance, flanks heaving gently.
    'Well, good morning to you too,' Sabine said, as it dashed up the
    wall in a blur of movement, and vanished into the eaves. So she
    wasn't the sole occupant after all, she thought, amused.
    So far, she'd done the absolute minimum necessary to allow herself
    to camp in the house overnight. But today it was going to be
    different. Today, she was going to do some heavy-duty cleaning
    — stamp her seal on the place, and make it her own.
    If she was going to stay for any length of time, she was going to
    need some furniture at least, she thought frowningly. A chest of
    drawers for her clothes, for instance. A comfortable chair, or
    maybe a bean-bag for the salon. And proper bedding. She wasn't
    used to being without a pillow.
    As she turned to go back inside, she saw something white lying on
    the hall floor. An envelope, she realised, as she bent to retrieve it.
    She hadn't merely failed to notice it on her way out. She'd trodden
    on it. Her footprint was stencilled across the thick hand-made
    paper.
    It must be a mistake, she thought, turning it over in her hands, and
    noting there was no superscription. No stamp either, so it had been
    delivered by hand, either last night when she was asleep, or very
    early this morning.
    She thought, I don't really want to open this. At the same time, she
    knew she would have to.
    It contained a single sheet of paper. The handwritten message was
    brief and formal. The Baronne de Rochefort presented her
    compliments to Mademoiselle Russell, and would be obliged if she
    would call at the chateau at three o'clock that afternoon.
    A royal summons, no less, Sabine thought drily. Madame Heloise
    seemed to