by L. A. Fiore
Always and Forever
A Novel by L.A. Fiore
Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence. - Vincent Van Gogh
Copyright
L. A. Fiore Always and Forever
© 2013, L. A. Fiore Self publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Table of Contents
Always and Forever
Copyright
Table of Contents
Part One
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Part Two
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Part One
"But I have promises to keep....." -- Robert Frost
Prologue
2006
Quinn had never been to England but she was drawn here: to the rugged wilderness of its countryside, the quaint charm of its villages, and the majesty of its forests. She was on vacation, a graduation gift to herself. She had originally intended to go to California to soak up some rays but changed her mind at the last minute and booked a flight to England instead.
Sightseeing through the English countryside was breathtaking. The stone walls curved along the plains in the distance while the snowy white wool of sheep dotted the landscape. Hers was the only car she had seen in over an hour and the pristine landscape was as wild and untamed as she imagined it had been when man first walked upon the Earth.
She was passing yet another magnificent lush green glen yawning out toward the horizon when she suddenly pulled her car over to the side of the road and stopped: the action so spontaneous that she jerked forward causing the seat belt to lock.
She climbed from her car and started up the hillside, walking with a single-minded determination, as if being guided by some unseen force. She stopped just on the outskirts of a patch of trees when she saw it in the distance.
Crossing over the river that cut though the landscape, she continued on until she stood in the middle of a courtyard belonging to the most beautiful castle she had ever seen.
Why wasn't there a gift shop with souvenirs and bus groups of tourists being led through guided tours as there was for pretty much every other castle in this part of the world? It looked as it probably had in its heyday and seemed to be a place that time had forgotten.
She was transfixed and spent the years that followed trying to dig up anything she could on the castle but there was nothing. It was as if the place just magically appeared and whatever history it claimed was a mystery yet to be solved.
Chapter One
Present Day
Quinn Shaughnessy loved to dig; loved getting dirt under her nails as she removed the earth, layer by layer, with the hopes of unveiling something that time had forgotten. Ever since she was little, she had the itch to dig whether it was her parent's yard, her unknowing neighbor's garden, the schoolyard, in the park, in the woods -- it made no difference. Her parents thought it was all very cute, their future archaeologist, but it was more than that to Quinn. It wasn't just about digging but about finding something. From the very first time her little hands pulled through the dirt, she was motivated by an elemental and instinctual need to find what she was missing. It, of course, made no sense which was why she never shared her motivation with anyone.
As she grew, her love for digging turned into understanding the mysteries behind her discoveries and how what had been, affected what was and what would be. It was the need to answer these questions that had her studying both archaeology and anthropology at Columbia. A lucky break landed her an internship at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
It was during her internship that Quinn met Cole Pierce. She knew of his reputation as a Finds Specialist because he was one of the tops in the field with an impressive track record of finds, including most recently the discovery of the Tomb of Hecatomnus.
He worked for a private organization based out of London that had a cloud of mystery surrounding it, up to and including the reclusive billionaire who owned it. What was known was that the owner insisted on perfection and was very discriminating when hiring staff, selecting only the elite in their fields of study. The fact that Cole had come to the United States to see Quinn specifically was amazing. When he offered her a position with his organization, it was surreal.
Quinn moved to England after graduation and started immediately working in the field. No job was too small and no find too insignificant because to Quinn everything discovered was just another piece in solving the puzzle. It was through the organization that Quinn was granted access to some of the greatest finds of her generation. Her new assignment was studying the one place that had become her personal quest since that first day, seven years earlier, when she stumbled upon it. She was going back to her castle, had legal claim to be there and was to study every bit of it.
Though Quinn had spent years trying to learn all that she could on the place, visiting countless times through the years, she could find nothing with the possible exception of a name scratched on a piece of paper, apparently some type of land grant from the late 1600s. And that tidbit was located under generations of dust in a public records office in London. Whispering Winds, a fitting name for the castle considering the sound of the wind as it rustled through the valley really did sound like a whisper.
"Are you ready, babe? Time's a wasting. I hope we do find lost treasure then maybe you and I can jet off to a private island and spend a couple of weeks naked," purred Derek Blake, the rock star of archeology who was forever believing his own press, as he attempted to press up against Quinn while she loaded bags into the trunk of the car.
She sidestepped him and moved a safe distance away. "That idea is about as appealing to me as is the idea of having my fingernails forcibly removed one by one."
He flashed his award winning grin, the one that was plastered on more archaeological publications than Quinn wanted to think about. Derek was a mediocre archaeologist but after his obscure discovery eight years ago of the Dianthus heart, a rare pink diamond that had next to no document trail, his discoveries became something of legend.
Having to work with him was always difficult since there never existed two people who were more opposite in their thinking. The man was only in the business for the money, the big score, and the one that would get him fame and women. He was a joke among true archaeologists but it couldn't be denied that he had become a real-life Indiana Jones. He had an uncanny ability of tracking down the rarest of treasures, though how he knew where to look for them when most of what he uncovered had no records, always baffled Quinn and her peers. It was like he had a crystal ball.
"Oh, Quinn, don't be like that. We're going to be together for the foreseeable future so can't you try to be nice? We don't have to be friends but sex would be fun," he leered at her, lingering a moment on her breasts before his focus re
turned to her face. "Really fun."
"Tempting, but no." Her sarcasm went right over his head. "We should get moving, it's going to take quite a few hours to get there."
"Your loss," he sneered before he held out his hand for the keys. "I'll drive."
From her location across the river, Quinn looked through the bright green leaves of the trees that lined the river's edge and really studied the castle. The place rested up against the small river, the white-washed stone looking almost opalescent in the afternoon sun. It wasn't a large castle by the standards of the 18th century, but it was rather sprawling with multiple buildings all connected by the bailey or courtyard. A part of the structure that Quinn thought at first had been in ruins was actually incomplete. She'd spent countless hours pondering why the castle was never finished and answering that had become another one of her quests. The surrounding countryside was composed of lush green hills dotted with patches of dense forests. Quinn had no trouble imagining the elegant movement of deer as they darted for cover offered by the thick foliage of the old trees.
"Stop gawking, Quinn I'm hungry."
She rolled her eyes, dismissing Derek's idiocy, and started up the hill eager to be closer to the site. She knew from previous experience that it wasn't easy to get close to the castle since there were no roads leading to it. In fact, much of the area around it was wild and untamed which only further supported the fact that the location had been left untouched. Derek had been forced to park the car a bit of a distance from the castle which was why they were going the rest of the way on foot. As with her other visits, being here and seeing the piece of the past that time had forgotten made her more determined to learn what happened here.
"Considering its age the structure is in remarkably good condition," Derek offered.
"It's magnificent," Quinn replied then stopped and took a moment to savor the sight. God, she loved it here: loved what she now thought of in her heart as hers. Derek was ahead pushing open the old oak door and when she walked over the threshold she had the same feeling she always had: I am finally home.
Derek was pacing around the great hall shaking his head. "There is not a damn thing in here, nothing." There was disbelief in his tone as he turned his attention to Quinn. He didn't understand her passion for all things old but he sure as hell liked looking at her. He wanted her in his bed, had for a long time, and maybe this trip he would get lucky in more ways than one.
"Maybe we should find some place to stay."
Derek's voice startled Quinn since for a moment she really felt as if she was all alone in the hall. He was watching her with an odd expression on his face when she turned to look at him.
"I think I want to stay here."
His expression was incredulous. "Here? There's nothing here. What are you going to sleep on?"
There were, in fact, things here but apparently nothing that held Derek's interest and more than likely because nothing gleamed of silver or gold and, at first glance, none of the paintings looked to be lost works from the greats. Instead of arguing with Derek, Quinn instead announced brightly, "I brought a sleeping bag."
"There's no electricity or heating. You'll freeze to death. It gets quite cold at night."
This wasn't the first time she'd slept in the castle. In fact, if Derek knew just how often she had escaped life to hide out here he would probably think she had lost her mind. She wasn't about to share her secret so instead waved off his concern. "It'll be just like camping."
"I'm not staying here," Derek huffed.
"That's fine but I am." She didn't wait for his response before she headed to the car to grab her stuff.
He followed after her as she strode to the car to retrieve her things.
"Are you sure you're okay with staying here by yourself? There's a bed-and-breakfast in the village," he cooed.
"Yes, I'll be fine. I've slept in far worse conditions."
He didn't doubt that, she was hard core.
"What will you do for food?" he asked.
"The village is not two miles from here, Derek, an easy walk. Really, I know this isn't what you signed up for so go, I'll be fine."
He stared at her for a minute realizing that his seduction was going to have to wait since as much as he wanted to sample that lush, little body he sure as hell had no intention of sleeping on the damn floor. Maybe after a day or two she'd come to him eager for a soft bed and a warm body to snuggle up to. Being a gentleman, he would certainly oblige her.
"All right. I'll check on you in a few days," he offered before he started towards the car. "If you need anything, call me."
"Okay."
Quinn watched until Derek turned the car around and disappeared down the hillside before grabbing her bags and walking the distance back to the castle. Once inside, she placed everything in the hall before she started to roam around. She knew how every room looked and realized Derek had a point. Because the castle was left abandoned, people had looted it through the years and most of the furnishings were gone but it made no difference to Quinn.
The front door opened into a little vestibule that led into the great hall where two walk-in fireplaces flanked the room. She knew the fireplaces vented outside the castle walls, modern thinking for the builder of the time, and had on more than one occasion lit a fire to keep herself warm during her visits.
On the walls were tapestries, though their colors had long ago faded, and as hard as she had studied them she had never been able to recognize their images. There was an old rectangle trestle table that sat upon a dais with two long benches that could easily fit ten large men on each side. She walked past the table into the buttery where the kegs of ale would have been kept and further down into the large kitchen.
It was a very modern kitchen for the day with two fireplaces, large butcher block tables for food preparation, a pantry dug into the dirt floor where the temperature would be colder to keep food from spoiling as fast. On the back wall of the kitchen was a door and as she stepped outside she always imagined a kitchen garden planted where herbs and root vegetables grew.
She turned and headed back to the great hall and took the stone steps up to the next level. On this floor, Quinn knew there was a receiving room, a morning room, the lord and lady's solar, and a music room. There was a long hall to the right that led to countless guest rooms and another circular stone staircase that led up to a large round room with windows all around the perimeter.
Every time Quinn entered this room she felt a wave of yearning so strong she had to stop and collect herself. She stepped up to one of the windows, pushed open the wooden shutter and looked out at the beautiful landscape that lay before her: one that she could see with her eyes closed. In the distance, she saw the small village and watched as the smoke from the cottage chimneys curled up into the cool evening air.
She closed the shutter and headed back downstairs where she wandered down another hall that led to the Lord and Lady's bed chambers: two enormous rooms linked by a common dressing area. One room was empty as it had been that first time she'd seen it. The second room, which she believed to be the Lord's chamber, had a massive carved oak bed, a few paintings, a fireplace and a beautiful rug covering most of the stone floor. Quinn always wondered why this room, unlike the rest of the castle, had not been looted. It was her guess that people feared the room because they felt what she felt whenever she stepped over the threshold, a presence, or if she was being fanciful, a ghost.
Whose room was it, for surely someone had called this place home once upon a time? The furnishings were consistent with the early 18th century. Had they been happy, had there been hordes of children and lots of family? And what happened here that it was abandoned, that everyone just up and left leaving it to suffer the years that followed in total isolation?
Quinn liked to make up her own theories. One such theory was that the place was haunted: the ghost she felt was the mistress of the house, murdered by an enemy of her husband, who roamed the halls looking for her lost loves. Or maybe
aliens set down, since really aliens weren't limited to the future as Stonehenge was evident, and abducted everyone and the whispered rumor of the abductions kept people away. Or maybe it was something less dramatic. When the castle was in the midst of being built, maybe tragedy struck, the owner and his family were killed, and it left a dark cloud over the site that kept people away. It was really kind of sad because it was beautiful and someone at some time had spent a lot of money and time to build what should have been a home to his family for generations to come. Instead it had become a forgotten memorial to all those lost hopes and dreams.
She always stayed in this room when she visited because she felt closer to the past here and, in truth; she liked the ghost, always felt oddly content in its presence. Once her sleeping bag was setup with her battery operated lantern next to it, she made her way to the privy: had gotten pretty good at using it during her countless stays. She wondered, briefly, what environmental laws she was breaking but then dismissed the thought. She climbed under her sleeping bag and reached for her book but the long hours of traveling finally caught up with her as she shut off the lantern and fell into a deep sleep.
She woke the following morning eager to get started. She brushed her teeth and washed her face with a bottle of water that she had brought with her before changing into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She had yet to travel into the village since she never journeyed too far from the castle during her previous stays. This visit, though, was work and she needed to interview the locals.
There were two villages within walking distance and, wishing to avoid another encounter with Derek, Quinn opted to walk to the village where he wasn't staying. The walk was a bit over two miles but the views were positively gorgeous and when she reached the heart of the town she was struck with how quaint it seemed. There were no paved streets and the buildings looked like the thatched cottages that one would see dotting the landscape in Ireland. There were no electric street lights or stop lights and no cars. The center of the village was rather small but there was a grocery store, which she planned on visiting to stock up on nonperishable items.