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Uncertain whether she was being pursued, Sydony raced through the rooms towards the front of the house, flung open the door and, without even blinking, launched herself at the man who was standing there.
Halted by his tall form, Sydony breathed his name against the soft lapel where she buried her face. A vague memory of security blossomed into a reassuring sense of safety. It was no wonder, for the hard body she clung to was as strong and solid as an oak. It smelled good, too, like horses and leather and something else. She had never noticed Barto’s scent before…but then she hadn’t been this close to him in years.
.....
Sydony lifted a finger to touch the raw wood, so out of place among the trappings of a medieval manor house. It seemed that someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble to cover up every inch of what lay beneath, but perhaps that was to keep any air from entering. The house was draughty enough without a gaping hole in the wall.
Upstairs, as they wandered from room to room, Sydony noticed more unusual window coverings, this time heavy wooden interior shutters. ‘The place is closed up tighter than a drum,’ she muttered.
.....
