The Secret of Willow Castle - A Historical Gothic Romance Novel
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When Rebecca Lennox receives a proposal from Sir Montague Chastain, she welcomes the chance to escape from poverty - but her new home is a maze of dark secrets, and temptation beckons in the form of her husband’s cousin Mervyn.
As she battles against her forbidden passion and Sir Montague’s strange machinations, Rebecca realises that her only hope for survival is to unlock the secrets of Willow Castle…
now? ‘Do you want to come into town with me?’ Harry asked Amy when he was about to go in to collect the supplies. ‘The Staffa’s in this morning,’ he added. ‘There might be some news.’ There’ll be the mail from Auckland. ‘All right, I’d like to,’ Amy said. ‘I thought you might like a break from Her Ladyship,’ Harry said as they drove along the beach. ‘She’s been scratchier than ever since Jimmy went.’ ‘She’s been a bit better with Pa lately—not with me, though. You’re right, it’s good to have
right?’ Arthur asked abruptly. ‘What?’ Frank said, startled out of his thoughts. ‘These cows we’re looking at, Frank.’ He waved the stick he was carrying in a gesture that took in most of the paddock. ‘Do you think they look all right?’ ‘Ah, yes, they look good. Your stock always looks healthy.’ ‘Well, when you’ve been farming as long as I have, you’ll probably have a few more clues yourself, Frank. I hope so, anyway.’ ‘Aw, I don’t know if I’ll ever be as good at it as you are, Mr Leith.
pretty. Would you like that?’ ‘Bring me a book!’ Jack laughed. ‘You and your books. Haven’t you got enough yet? All right, something pretty and a book, how’s that?’ Amy tilted her face for a kiss, and felt the tickle of his beard against her cheek. ‘You’re not going to get too big for cuddles, are you?’ Jack asked. ‘Not for a long time.’ Amy glanced up at the sky; the sun was now well to the west. ‘I’d better go in a minute—I’m doing a steamed pudding tonight, and I need to get it started.
‘Pick me up, Amy,’ Thomas demanded. ‘Oh, I don’t think I can, Tommy. You’re too heavy for me.’ ‘Pick me up. Please?’ ‘I’ll carry you, boy.’ Jack hoisted Thomas onto his shoulders. ‘John, you carry our stuff. Take my arm, Amy.’ Amy leaned gratefully on her father. He helped her into the buggy, sat beside her and took up the reins. Thomas squeezed between them, leaving John to sit in the back seat with their bags. Thomas clambered onto Amy’s lap and wound his arms around her neck. ‘You got a
know what danger he was in; he was lucky that Lizzie was too young to be allowed to marry for years yet. When they got to the trees Lizzie admired his horse, stroking its neck lovingly as if she had never seen a very ordinary-looking bay mare before, praised the tidy state of his harness, and generally made a fuss of Frank, something he was clearly quite unused to. ‘Leave young Frank alone, I want to get home,’ Arthur said, interrupting Lizzie in mid-sentence. Lizzie made a face in her father’s