Page 90 of Sinful Escape

Salzburg was one of my favorite cities on this tour, not only because it was yet to be overrun with tourists, but also because our accommodation was one of the most unique in Europe.

“Seven years ago, Vacation Dreamz purchased Thorsteinn Castle. The Romanesque castle dates back to the eleventh century and was originally built to protect the Archbishop of Salzburg from invaders. But over the centuries, it’s been nearly destroyed by invaders four times. Those interested in architecture should look out for both Gothic and Renaissance structures. You’re in for a real treat.” I paused for effect. “This wonderful, fortified castle will be your accommodation for tonight.”

Although several passengers visibly expressed their excitement, nothing could really prepare them for what they were about to see. Thorsteinn Castle was truly impressive. Each time I visited, I discovered another facet that I hadn’t seen before.

“For another treat, you’re all invited to a royal banquet. But . . .” I held up a finger for emphasis, “. . . only if you’re wearing a costume. There’s a huge selection of period clothing to choose from and the staff will help you select your outfits. You’ll have a few hours to explore the castle and dress up. So, I’ll see you all in the great hall at nine o’clock.”

I turned, hooked up the microphone and slipped into my chair. The engine noise changed as the bus began its slow and steady climb up the hill. Thorsteinn Castle sat atop an enormous limestone edifice, offering 360-degree views of the surrounding terrain. As we twisted around one hairpin turn after another, the scenery alternated from snow-capped Austrian Alps to the Salzach River and rolling green plains.

Each spectacular vista took my breath away.

Salzburg was pretty whether it was covered in snow during winter or boasting multi-colored trees that lined the hillsides, like now. The city itself was bursting with history. People had inhabited Salzburg since the fifth century, and I often had to pinch myself to confirm I was actually there. The oldest buildings in the country where I grew up were only about two hundred and thirty years old.

The clock counting down the days until I was booted out of Europe boomed in my head.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

As Roman handled the bus around one of the tight turns, I studied him. His brows were drilled tightly together, his lips pursed. The picture of concentration. And so he should be. . . one wrong move would hurtle thirty-two people over a two-hundred-foot cliff to certain death.

He’d surprised me with his competence.

When I’d first met him, I’d written him off as a womanizer who was good for absolutely nothing. I’d been wrong about the good-for-nothing bit. He was still a womanizer, though; he flirted with our female guests as much as they flirted with him. Hmmm, which of the ten single women on the tour had he had sex with?

Claudette maybe. Or Sunny. Both of those women were beautiful on the inside and out. And I’d seen Roman flirting with them on several occasions. Hell, he could’ve had sex with all of them, for all I knew.

I wanted to slap myself. Roman’s sex life was none of my business.

Then again . . . he was always digging into mine.

Yeah, why should he be allowed discretion when he gave me none?

Roman dropped the bus into a lower gear, ready to challenge the final steep incline, and the passengers hushed like they were all holding their breath.

If Zali was in my shoes, she’d show Roman who was boss at his twenty questions game. It was time I channeled my inner Zali.

Roman crunched a gear as if somehow warning me not to go there. He was right. Now was not the time. I’d start my digging later when Roman was less occupied. He had no idea what was coming.

Eighteen minutes after we started the upward trek, Roman halted the bus before two giant wooden doors studded with enormous, forged iron bolts. Our wait wasn’t long, and with a deep metallic crunch, the gates gradually folded inward. The view beyond the entrance was like something out of a fairy tale.

The front façade of the castle boasted matching corner towers topped with red cones and billowing flags. Beyond that was Untersberg, the snow-capped Alpine peak, barely nine miles away.

Roman drove over the drawbridge covering the ancient moat, and when the timber rattled beneath us, the click of cameras behind me confirmed our guests were enjoying the scenery. We entered the fortified castle grounds via an enormous arched gateway and arrived at a central courtyard boasting a couple of giant cannons and piles of armaments to go with them.

Roman pulled the bus to a stop and I turned to him. “The castle staff look after our guests for a while, including their luggage, so we get the afternoon off.”

“Fantastico. Some of those giant suitcases are killing me.”

“I’m sure they are. I have no idea what they put in those things.”

“Dead bodies, I think.” He chuckled. “Will I see you at the banquet?”

I hadn’t attended the dinner in nine months. The idea of dressing up had become tedious. Not now, though—not with that ticking clock pestering me. Dressing in a costume and doing my hair was suddenly very appealing. “Yes, of course.” I flashed an expression that implied his question was silly. “Don’t forget to sort out your costume with Nina on level two.”

I stepped off the bus and Nina and Katrin came rushing out of one of the castle’s wooden doors, welcoming us with open arms. I accepted a big hug from each of them and while we made small talk, the passengers climbed down into the gravel courtyard.

Mike and the American boys did exactly as most of my male tourists did—they went straight to the cannons and began lifting the cast-iron balls over their heads as if they were gym weights.

The seventeenth-century iron-cast cannonballs weighed only nine pounds, which was relatively light in comparison to most ancient armaments. But, given the arduous trek and the logistics of lugging such heavy equipment up to the castle, their weapon choice during those ancient times made perfect sense.

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