Page 19 of The Curse of McMillan Castle
It didn’t matter how fast his heart beat in his chest. It didn’t matter how tired he was. His Rosie was scared, and he simply had to find a way to be strong for her.
“Why did you take it out of the cellar, Rosie?”
Rosie sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt bad for her. This was her home. I didn’t think she needed to be locked away in the cellar as if she didn’t belong here. I understand why grandmother didn’t want to make Baodan sad, but I just thought she needed to be somewhere where she could be seen.”
Rosie was the best girl in the world. Of course she cared about the woman in the painting. It was one of the many reasons that Cooper loved her so much.
“Well, what do you think we should do now?”
Rosie hesitated and a familiar apprehension built in Cooper’s gut. Whatever Rosie was about to suggest, he was likely to get in trouble for it. He could sense it in every part of his being.
“I think we should burn it.”
“Burn it?” Cooper knew his voice rose too loudly at the question, but it was the last thing he expected her to say.
Consult a grown-up? Likely.
Return it to the cellar? Possible.
Burn it? Never.
“Why would you want to burn it?”
“Maybe she’s trapped in the painting, Cooper, and burning it will set her free? Sort of like cremating a body—ashes to ashes and all that.”
Cooper shivered at the thought. He didn’t want to think about burning the painting—let alone burning bodies.
“Where would we even burn something?”
“Somewhere outside of the village. Far enough away that no one will see the smoke.”
Cooper sighed. Just like with the cake—Rosie’s mind was set. No matter what he said to her, there would be no talking her out of it.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
Rosie shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m doing it. You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to.”
Rosie knew he would come. She wouldn’t have woken him up, otherwise.
Chapter 13
Madeline
Isaw little of Duncan after his first night here. I would pass him while on my way to Henry’s, but he was always so busy working and visiting with his new assistant, Cooper, that we’d only exchanged a polite wave and a smile.
Perhaps it was for the best. While a bout of uncharacteristic optimism had seized me at first, I could now see that pursuing a relationship with anyone in this century was asking for trouble. The men that lived among the modern women at McMillan Castle were not the norm. It wasn’t possible for that many more of them in all of Scotland to be so accepting as the group I was acquainted with.
“Ye seem distracted, lass. What’s on yer mind?”
I continued to fold Henry’s extra linens and did my best to pretend he hadn’t just caught me tuning him out.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
A knock on the door saved me from his further questioning. I quickly set down the pile of laundry and moved to answer it. The delightful innkeeper, Isobel, stood on the other side.
“Good morning to ye, lass. I hoped ye would still be here.”
Like everyone else in the village, I adored Isobel. She was one of the most singularly likable people I’d ever met in my life.
