And for quite a while the fire was not necessary to keep us warm. Some time later, wrapped in blankets, having stirred the fire and added scented wood to its fading embers, Scott reached behind the mound of pillows. I have something for you. For some reason we nearly always whispered when we were in the cavern. Neither of us wished to break the magic of the spell created by these moments of perfection.
Scott handed me a flat, burgundy box with gold lettering.
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It was tied with a silk, red ribbon, which fell away easily. The box said Kinder with other words in German that I could not translate. I opened it and took a bite of the chocolate inside. It was heavenly.
Eventually reality does intrude. The fire did die down. The damp and cold did seep in. I was pleasantly drowsy, but it would be good to get indoors. We held hands and huddled together as we walked back to our rooms. It was after one in the morning. The wind had risen to a gale, the moon was a third of the way up the sky, half the stars were obscured by roiling thunderheads, and lightning was clear in the far distance. The island is about ten square miles. It is a fairly regular oval except for the northern tip, which has a small bay.
Nuts Tom Scott Mystery by Mark Richard
From above it would look like an oval with a small bite out of the top. The cavern was about a third of the way around the island west from the port. If you took the path east, eventually you would walk nearly two-thirds of the way around the island. In this direction, the path mostly hugged the shore. This east way was generally the most pleasant with natural rock barriers often breaking the worst of the winter gales, although in stormy weather, you could get soaked from sea spray if the waves were up.
And we were getting wet, and we kind of giggled and were silly, and bumped against each other. The west way from the harbor to the cavern followed the edge of the sea for only about a hundred feet. Then the viciously rocky coastline, with its sharp rocks and startlingly high cliffs, inhibited any further progress in that direction.
Are You Nuts?: A Tom & Scott Mystery (Tom & Scott Mysteries)
You were forced to head inland. The path meandered for miles to avoid this impassable stretch of coastline. These darkened paths followed the crest of these wannabe English moorlands. Often in the morning we ran together around the entire pathway, maybe five miles or so. We would speed through the part with the ocean spray, often drenching ourselves with a shower of sea water as we trotted by. The cool spray felt good during five miles of running, but now a storm was coming and the sea was up. Our romantic stroll was getting us both drenched.
Tonight the wind whipped the waves and flapped the clothes against our bodies.
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About halfway back we passed Virl Morgan. He ran every night after his charge had gone to sleep. Virl was about five foot eight with massive forearms. I thought he was short for a security guard. Scott explained that if you wished to make a statement, you had a large, burly security guard, but that a strong, competent one on the smaller side was good enough for normal wear and tear.
Virl guarded the son of the pretender to the Bourbon throne of France. If the monarchy was ever restored in France and if their line could prove their claim against all other claims, it would be an important job. As we passed each other, we all nodded an acknowledgment. We skirted the harbor and took the path around the last hill. I rested my head against his shoulder. I looked forward to cuddling under our quilts in the tower room, reading by candlelight, and falling asleep with my head on his chest.
As we turned the last sharp curve to the castle, a fine mist began to blow in my face. The lightning was nearer, and I could finally hear faint rumbles of thunder. It was beautiful, half the sky boiling with darkness, half still lit by the full moon and the mantle of stars. Out beyond the harbor breakwater, the sea foamed and frothed.
We climbed the steep rise up the center of the last expanse of land before the castle. The edifice was surrounded on three sides by a hundred yards of open ground. The fourth side, which ended with a tower, was contiguous with the sea. The wind buffeted us mightily. As we climbed, we bent our backs into the rising gale and marched forward.
In the lee of the castle, the wind was calmer. The grand entrance to the castle was actually directly under our room. Beyond the entryway the foyer had three branches. One led into the Great Hall, another to a vast library and the third up the grand staircase that led to our room. The rare literature there was probably more valuable than half the castle. None but the super-rich were allowed in the Great Hall.
The doors between the tower, where our rooms and the rest of the castle were, were made of six-inch planks of oak bolted to foot-wide and inch-thick steel plates. They were always locked.
The castle had been built and rebuilt countless times going back to the time of the Minoan civilization. The massive stone tower was its most prominent feature and our suite took up the top two-thirds of the tower. Our room actually had three levels, a sheltered lookout at the top level and a sitting room with a spiral staircase connecting it to a comfortable bedroom below.
Each was vastly oversized and tastefully appointed. You could have as many servants, always male, as you wished assigned to your villa while you were there. Generally there were at least three: a maid, a butler, and your own personal concierge. A fourth option was an in-house cook, although the only restaurant on the island was used by many. Three days here was pretty much my travel budget for the year so we only kept the personal concierge.
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The villas rent for five to fifteen thousand a night. After a difficult summer, the last thing that gay high school teacher Tom Mason needs in the new school year is turmoil. But a conservative parents' group, "worried" about gay teachers corrupting the students, is attempting to take over the local PTA. And it soon gets worse--one of the ringleaders of the parents' group is murdered in the high school after a very contentious PTA meetings, and Tom's best friend is arrested for the crime.
Now to prove her innocence, Tom must hunt down the real killer He is a high-school teacher, and president of the teacher's union, in the Chicago suburb of Mokena, Illinois. She had a soft voice that droned from opening syllable to closing pluperfect subjunctive verb e. I could picture the punctuation in her speeches pleading for release. I, however, was not about to join the cynics in the back who placed bets on and then counted how many times she used the phrase educational leaders. I would never countenance such disrespect.
apimelisatest.sociocaster.com/collins-la-revisin-gua.php Besides, I always lost money in the pool.
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