Dark Shadows: Angelique's Descent by Lara Parker

Author:Lara Parker [Parker, Lara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Paranormal, Media Tie-In
ISBN: 9781429964661
Google: HF5RUT2HOqoC
Amazon: 0765332604
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 2012-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty

One afternoon Angelique wandered so far up the beach that she saw her old cottage in the distance. She hesitated a moment, susceptible to a mixture of painful feelings, then broke into a run and did not stop until she could see the porch, the yard around it, and the roof with a fine new thatch.

At first she thought the house was covered with giant spiderwebs, until she realized it was draped with finely woven and gauzy fishing nets, hanging from several tall stakes. She noticed baskets and tubs strewn about a well-tended garden plot, an outdoor fireplace, and, nearby, a rough-carved wooden chair.

She crept up to the door and peeked inside. The interior looked unfamiliar, and the house was certainly inhabited. The sleeping corner was a pile of quilts, and most of the front room was cluttered with fishing paraphernalia, poles and spools of line, nets and sewing tools, weights and hand-carved lures. The kitchen had a few copper pans, some pots hanging on the wall, and tins of crackers and salted beef lying on the table. A man’s clothing—a jacket and several plain shirts—were draped on the one straight-backed chair. She was surprised to see a small shelf of books and writing paper on the table.

When she came back out the front door and looked toward the sea, she saw the fisherman. He had pulled his boat up on the beach and was lowering the sail, which flapped and shivered in the wind. She stood and watched as he tied the sail to the boom and tended his lines, coiling them and twisting them in fluid motions. Then he leaned beneath the rudder arm and pulled out a strong rope, slinging it over his shoulder. Attached to the line were three or four long tarpon, their silver sides reflecting like metal in the afternoon sun. The fisherman was bare-chested and barefoot, and, as he drew nearer, she was astonished to see that he was only a year or two older than she.

He stopped when he caught sight of her standing by his door, and he looked down the beach to see whether she was alone. Satisfying himself that she was, he nodded to her and came closer to the house. Lowering his catch into a tub of salt water, he washed the brine from his hands.

She could see that he was strong, his body lithe and well formed. His skin was darkly tanned and salted with a fine mist of seawater, and his muscles were fluid and shadowed. His hair was a sandy color, his face was gilded by the sun and finely featured, and his eyes, when he looked up at her finally, were a mossy shade of green, the color of his fishing nets.

“What do you want?” he said at last. “Are you lost?”

“No,” she said. “I was walking on the beach when I saw the house.”

“You might call it a house now,” he said defensively, as though he thought she might take it from him. “When I found it, it was a pile of scattered timbers.

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