Page 73 of Vow of Vengeance

“The Frisques have sent a car. It’s waiting for us outside.”

Gian takes the front passenger seat on the ride. Haze sits in the back with me, his shoulder close against mine, my hand tightly in his. We ride through the town of Inverness, following alongthe river, my heart in my stomach the entire way. The castle comes into view, and my breath catches. Do I remember this place?

A sturdy, two-story red sandstone square sandwiched between three towers. All the windows are arched at the top in half-moons facing the river. A woman stands at the top of a tall set of stone stairs.

My heart sinks. It’s not that the person standing in front of the beautiful wood doors of the castle doesn’t seem like a perfectly lovely person—she’s just nothing like my memory of her.

The woman is much older than I remember. She is short-statured and has an air that makes you think of homemade cookies with milk. Her steel-gray hair has white streaks and is pulled back in a severe bun. Tortoiseshell glasses are perched on her nose. She wears a light-blue apron. I can’t make out the emblem from here, but I’m sure it’s for the castle.

My disappointment in my false memory disappears as we exit the car. We’re about to enter a real castle tied to my past and my dad, and I feel a childlike joy.

Haze stands to my right, Gian to my left. My complicated lover/protector and my best friend.

I love my family, yet can’t help but think of the deceit, lost stories, and forgotten memories. They wanted to protect me, but cutting every memory of my father from my life wasn’t the right choice for me. I think of how, at this moment, my mom would be chattering about how lovely the castle is, how Grandma would be fretting over our outfits, thinking we weren’t dressed up enough, and Grandpa’s face would be pinched up at the opulence of a castle as a home.

Yes, I love them dearly; I’d do anything for them. Even marry a stranger. I peek at Haze’s, my husband-to-be’s, side profile, which is as achingly handsome as every other view of him. I’ll marry up in the looks department, but hopefully, I will bring some much-needed sunshine to our partnership.

Sensing my stare, he shoots me a look of reassurance, reminding me, “This is a good thing.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else beside me now,” I whisper to them.

“Aw, bless, bambina!” Gian flicks away a tear. Haze and Gian each take one of my hands, Haze squeezing tightly. We stare up at the castle for a moment.

“Well, are ye comin’ in, or are ye waiting for me to come to carry ye up the stairs?” The woman staring down at us plants her hands on her hips, removing her right hand just long enough to give me a demanding wave. “Ms. Pearl, get yourself up these stairs. I haven’t seen you since you were a wee bairn! Come give me a squeeze, wain.”

The warmth in her stern voice has me leaving the men, running up the stairs, and flinging myself in her arms. I feel silly because tears spring up as she embraces me warmly. “Oh, Pearl, to see your face again…”

“Don’t steal all the hugs, Morven.”

The melodic voice instantly draws my attention. I turn to look over my shoulder. Standing in front of an open castle door is a beautiful woman. Tall and thin, with pin-straight ice-blond hair hanging down her back, she is dressed in black couture, a dress with an asymmetrical neckline and hem, looking elegant with a little edge I love.

If I ever wore a dress, it would be like the one she wears now.

My memories may be fuzzy and scarce, but I feel the familiarity as I stare at her. “Freya.”

“Pearl!” Freya quickly corrects herself. “I mean, Ophelia. Look at you!” The woman who must be Morven releases me. I move to Freya. “My goodness, you’re stunning. And yet your face.” She presses a cold hand on either of my cheeks, staring deep into my eyes. “Same as I remember.”

I stand in awe, feeling her hands on my face. “I think I remember you too…”

A well-dressed man joins us, sliding an arm around Freya’s waist. Freya introduces him as her husband, Fredrick. He shakes my hand, speaking with a hint of a French accent. “Ophelia. It’s been a minute since we’ve seen you last. I believe you were in diapers last time you were here at Wee Inverness.”

“Wee Inverness?” Haze asks.

Freya laughs, the sound like tinkling bells. “That’s what we call the castle. It’s a mini replica of the real thing. And yes, you were just a wee little thing.” She laughs again. “We’d never changed diapers before your stay. I’m sorry to admit—I put yours on backward before I got the hang of things.”

My face heats, and I change the topic before Haze can hear more about me in diapers. “I’d love a tour of the castle! It would be fun to see if any memories spring up.”

“Yes! Let’s! Come on, everyone,” Freya says. “I’ll lead the way.”

“All except me,” Morven says. “I’ve been touring this castle every day for twenty years. I’ll go make the tea.”

As we walk the halls, Freya fills me in on what she can. Besides my many likes and dislikes as a toddler at the castle, she doesn't have much more information than Gian already shared.

She does say one thing that grabs me. Walking to the renovated ballroom, she says, “Your grandmother, Cass, worked at the police station outside Glasgow for many years.”

I feel my ears prick as she says it. This is news to me. My brows shoot sky-high as I ask, “She did?”

“She was the first woman hired and brought on as secretary, but others say she ran the place over time, and the men looked to her for guidance.” Freya leans into me as if telling a secret. “I heard she was a tech whiz, too, and doubled as their IT department.”

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