Heartthrobs and Hauntings by Christine M. Walter EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Christine M. Walter
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 6.9 MB
- Price: Free
A distant sound echoed up and down the corridor, giving the
impression that something further within the castle had slammed shut. The
deceased inhabitants of the castle were accustomed to such noises, having
endured them for centuries.
The living had awakened.
“I am so cold,” Baby whined, floating into the room. The pale blonde
curls that had once bounced with every step now hung unmoving upon her
head. “Ow.” She mumbled as her hip drifted through the corner of the highbacked chair, but given she had no flesh, she would not have sensed a thing.
Widow rolled her eyes. “Not again. If you keep complaining about
being cold, I think I will throw myself out the window.”
“Please do. I would love to be entertained,” Beauty said in her slight
French accent.
Baby held her chin high as she moved to the four-poster bed and tried
to lay her body upon it. Oh, how she wished she could feel the soft sheets
press against her skin again. Hovering over the down mattress never
satisfied her desire to rest. Yet, after two hundred years, she continued to
try.
Widow stood straighter, moved to the window, and peered through the
gap in the curtain. The slamming of car doors outside brought everyone’s
attention to where the gray daylight shone into the room through the
weathered, gothic windowpane. “Oh, look. The master is leaving again.”
Beauty frowned. “How disappointing. I had wished to wake him
tonight.”
“He von’t vake. He is used to you shuffling about in his room,” Baby
stated, then wondered why she had spoken the sentence in such an odd way.
Did I once have an accent I have forgotten?
“Oh, but he is nice to look at,” Beauty said with a crooked grin.
“That he is—if only he did not have so many faults,” Widow lamented,
continuing to gaze out the window.
“If only? Even if he were perfect, it is not likely you could catch him in
your web,” Beauty sneered, sticking a knitting needle into her pompadour
to scratch her itchy scalp. Her corset creaked from the wiggle of her arm.
Of the three women in the room, Beauty was the most elaborately dressed
—hence her nickname. Her silk open-bodice gown hugged her waist and
flowed over the wide, square hoop skirt accentuating her hips. A decorative
stomacher covered her chest, but only just. Her lace-trimmed bell sleeves
hung to her elbows. In short … she was constantly irritated.
“But would it not be nice just to be held again?” Widow sighed.
“Please, Widow, do not start pining over your lost love. It has been a
hundred years; it is time you were over it.”
Widow turned from the window and scowled at Beauty, her nightgown
making a large swish that didn’t stir the thick dust around her. “Merely
because you’ve been here the longest doesn’t grant you exclusive rights to
mourn your lost life. One hundred years is a long time, too.”
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