Heir Untamed (15 page)

Spread out before them was a panoramic vista of forest and wildlands that stretched as far as the eye could see. The river cut across the landscape like a glistening snake, sidewinding its way through foliage and rock on its way inland toward another lake. In the far distance, she saw the low outline of what looked like mountains.

“This is breathtaking. Some of these pictures will be perfect, I think, to give a clearer picture of what Latvala is really like. The untamed parts, anyway.” She lowered her camera and glanced at Sander.

He stared out at the landscape with a look of pride and serenity. “Exactly. Our homeland is more than the shopping district or the busy ports in the city. That has its charm—but I think this is a necessary and overlooked part of the country.”

“How far does the Royal land extend from here?” Chey knew there had to be smaller cities between the castle and those distant mountains.

“Quite a ways. There is actually another, smaller castle that sits right on the big lake. You can't see it from here.” He pointed in an easterly direction, beyond a thick forest that obliterated most everything for a half mile or more. “Twenty miles past that castle is a small city called Herfshire, and then another three or four towns leading up to the mountains. The Royals only allowed so many cities to crop up within a certain area near the castles. Most other cities, with more citizens, sit further up the coast and inland to the east of the mountains there. People of Latvala like to spread out, rather than cluster together.”

“Who lives in that smaller castle? And just how small is small?” Chey couldn't imagine a 'small' castle.

Sander hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans and stared out at the impressive landscape. “No one lives in it now. It was built before the other one—in fact there are a few castles in Latvala that predate the current family seat—to house the King and Queen during their reign at that time. It was in the thirteen hundreds, so although the structure has withstood the test of time fairly well, it's pretty much unlivable in its current state. The Royal family has kept it preserved and will continue to do so.”

“Is it open to the public? Like for tours and everything?” Chey lowered her camera after snapping another few shots. She glanced at Sander, studying the handsome shape of his profile.

“No, no. None of the Royal family ever opened it up and even if they did, the locals wouldn't go. Only tourists who don't know the old stories.”

“What old stories? Why wouldn't the locals go?”

“Because there are those who say it's haunted.” He met her gaze.

Chey scoffed. “Ghosts aren't real.”

“Aren't they? How do you know?”

“Well how do you know they
are?”
she countered.

“I've spent a night up in the south tower, that's why.” He cut a sharp, knowing grin.

Chey waved a hand dismissively in the air. “Please. You can't seriously think I'll believe you had some paranormal experience.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I'm saying that you probably thought you saw or heard something. People's minds go into overdrive in those situations.” Chey absolutely did not believe in ghosts. She couldn't decide if that look in Sander's eyes was a spark of mischief or challenge.

“I think that even if a ghost walked up and smiled right in your face, you would deny that you'd seen it,” he said, bending down to the cooler he'd set on the ground. Opening the lid, he took out two bottles of cold water and handed one to her.

She accepted it with a disbelieving snort. “That's not true. But it won't happen because they don't exist, like I said.”

He twisted the lid off the bottle and tipped it back, draining it to half. “All right. How about we put the theory to the test?”

“What do you mean?” She sipped from her own bottle.

“You, alone, in the abandoned castle. I'll wait outside nearby so when you start screaming, it won't take me long to get there.” He looked as smug as he sounded.

Chey's eyes widened. Recapping the water, she glanced out at the vista of woods and rocky terrain. She couldn't see the castle from there, more was the pity. Catching a quick denial on her tongue, Chey rethought her initial reaction. Why say no? She was almost sure the old castle wasn't on her list of places to visit while she was here, which meant an extra photo opportunity.

Not only that, but how many people would love to wander an ancient ruin steeped in so much history?

“Tell me first why you think it's haunted.” She wanted all the details.

Sander set down his water on a nearby rock and started unpacking their lunch. He'd gone to some trouble to bring everything they needed, right down to napkins and toothpicks. He unloaded deli style sandwiches, pickle spears and small baggies of berries and almonds. While he passed hers over, he answered her question at length.

“The King and Queen had nine children. Six boys, and three girls. The youngest girl was known as a handful, very willful and hard headed. She taunted her older brothers, the house staff, even her parents. As she grew older, none of the most prominent, well suited men wanted anything to do with her. They'd heard the stories of her devilry and coupled with the fact that she was so difficult to please, they steered clear. There were plenty of other, less tiresome women to choose from, even though they weren't as titled. Anyway, she became unbearable to live with, blaming everyone else for her lack of a beau or husband. She threw tantrums daily and made life hell for everyone in the castle. One day, when she was twenty-three, the staff realized no one had heard or seen Andra since the evening before. Two maids went up to her room—in the south tower—and found her hanging from a high beam. Dead.” By the time he'd reached that point in the story, Sander was sitting atop a low, flat boulder, sandwich in hand.

Chey sat on the other end, caught up in the tale of Andra. The position brushed her side against Sanders now and again. “So she killed herself out of sheer misery?”

“Mm, no. No, she was murdered.” He took a bite of his sandwich.

“Sounds like suicide to me.”

“It does, until you know that she was hanging from the middle of the room—and there wasn't anything close by for her to stand on. The only chair was sitting against a wall near a chest of drawers and the bed wasn't either high enough nor close enough to provide a launching off point. It was just Andra, hanging from a rope in the middle of the south tower. She couldn't have thrown the rope over the beam and hauled herself up, couldn't have jumped up and touched the beam itself for that matter because of how high the ceiling is.” He glanced at her eyes and took a bite of his sandwich.

Chey used a napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth. Every time the breeze gusted by, she could smell the scent of his cologne. Masculine, appealing, sensual. It was distracting.

“But who would have murdered her—well that's a silly question. Everyone in the castle probably wanted her dead.” Chey frowned and took a drink of water.

“Exactly.”

“Did they ever find out who did it?”

“No. It's remained a mystery all this time. Everyone was appropriately distraught and upset, so no one could even point fingers and blame. Two generations later, it happened again. In the same tower, from the same beam. Murder for sure, because all the furniture had been taken out after Andra's death and the tower was bare.”

“...what? Another murder? Who died this time?” Chey couldn't fathom living in those circumstances.

“The youngest daughter of the reigning King and Queen. This girl, though, according to legend, had been the exact opposite of Andra. Sweet, kind, compassionate. Everyone loved her. No one ever confessed and no one ever figured out who did it.” He finished off the sandwich and popped a few almonds in his mouth.

“I'm wondering about the why of it, myself. What could she have done to deserve it?” Chey, slower to finish her sandwich, watched Sander sidelong.

“Who knows. The perpetrator wasn't going to admit doing it, much less why. It was an obvious reference to Andra though, so there was a lot of speculation about reincarnation and all that.”

Chey scoffed. “That's a likely excuse. Why not the more reasonable explanation, which would be something along the lines of a jealous companion who took their rival out in a most dramatic way.”

“Which is probably exactly what happened.” He looked like he was trying not to grin.

“Wait—is all this even true? Or are you just making it all up to give me the heebie jeebies when I visit the castle?” She narrowed her eyes.

Sander laughed. “No, I swear it's all true. You can read about it. There are books in the castle library somewhere that outline the history of the Royal family. It's all there.”

“So you don't really believe in reincarnation too, then. That was just what the superstitious people came up with.” Finishing her sandwich, finally, she stuffed the baggie away into the backpack and fished out a handful of raspberries.

“No, I don't believe in reincarnation.”

“But you believe in ghosts.”

“You'll see tomorrow evening.”

“You didn't answer my question,” she retorted.

“Yes, I did.” He winked and got up off the rock. “You ready to get back on the river?”

“Definitely. This was fantastic though. A view and ghost stories. You know how to entertain a girl.” Teasing him, she finished her berries and packed everything away.

“You haven't seen anything yet, sweetheart.” He swung the backpack strap over a shoulder and picked the cooler up. Sander led her back down the boulder trail to the shore. After stowing the cooler and the backpack, and making sure she was settled on her bench, he shoved the canoe off to start the next leg of their trip.

. . .

Liberated by her truths, Chey enjoyed herself more than she thought she would. Sander, fast with quips and wit, entertained her with his dry sarcasm as the miles fell away under their oars.

She knew something had changed with the river when the formerly smooth ride started to get bumpy and rough. A large boulder made an appearance in the middle of the water that they steered around. The landscape on either side of the bank had flattened out, stretching away into woods instead of high cliffs.

“All right. This is where you're going to need to pay closer attention. I can't see ahead as well with you in the front, so you're going to have to tell me when those big rocks stick up out of the water. I know where most of the large ones are. It's the smaller ones we have to watch,” Sander said.

“Are we heading into rapids?” she asked, using her oar to point out a rock coming up on their right.

“Yes. It's nothing major, though we do have to be vigilant when we're passing through. The easiest way to see the submerged ones are to watch the water. When it splits and passes around something you can't see, tell me. We'll go to the left or right, following the current. Can you do that?”

“I think so, yes. It doesn't look too bad from here.” Looking ahead, Chey only saw a few places where the calm surface rippled into white rapids.

“Like I said, this patch isn't bad. Just steer us around the boulders.”

“Are there places along the river where it's worse?” Chey guided them around another, smaller rock that just broke the surface.

“Yes. Several rapids along the river are serious business. No one but an experienced rafter or kayaker would undertake it.”

“You sound like you know firsthand.” She glanced over her shoulder. Sander looked away from the water to her eyes and smiled in a way that said she was right.

“Of course I do. I have mentioned, have I not, that I spend a lot of time outdoors?”

“Yes. But there has to be a cut off point, right? Where it's too dangerous or risky?” She looked forward when he gestured. The canoe followed a swift current that made Chey's stomach flip-flop. The sensation of speed tapered off almost as quick as it began.

“What's life without a little risk?” he countered.

“You know what I mean.” The current smoothed out, though the canoe traveled just as fast along the surface, speeding through a wide gap between boulders.

“And my answer remains the same. You can't hold back just because you think the risk is too high. Don't get me wrong—I won't jump off a cliff with no bungee attached or toss myself out of a plane with no parachute, but I've done both those things with the proper protection and have no regrets.”

“There is no way I would jump out of a plane. For any reason.” She shuddered at the thought. That risk, in her mind, was just too high.

“You don't know what you're missing. Or are you the type that thinks 'risk' is battling twenty other women at the sales rack at the local store? Bit of hair pulling, tug-of-war over a bra--”

Chey guffawed and slapped her paddle backwards in the water. Rewarded with his grunt of surprise, she concentrated on the river lest she miss a change in current and land them on the rocks.

In her distraction, she didn't think about the attack, or the threats, or what might happen from here. Chey enjoyed the moment, yelping in shock when the canoe dipped down and splashed back up, spraying her with water. She checked her camera, grateful to see only a faint sheen on the outside.

The rapids dwindled to a calm flow once more, leaving Chey with a racing heart and a grin on her mouth. Although tame by Sander's standards, it had been wild enough to be exciting for her.

From there, Sander guided them through another gorge and eventually onto a bank when the rock sloped down to flat shoreline once more. He climbed out and tugged the canoe further up onto the sand and offered her a hand to disembark. Accepting it, she grabbed the strap of the duffel and stepped down onto the ground. Sander plucked the cooler out after that, and hitched the canoe all the way up a rail where he secured the vessel by rope. The area showed signs of being used as a common 'input' for river travelers. A few benches sat near the long rail to tether canoes or rafts or other water equipment to and a small building sat further in. Restrooms, noted by the distinctive graphics on the doors.

“Are we hiking all the way back?” she asked, slinging the duffel strap over her shoulder.