Loving the Czar (The Blakemore Files Book 6) by Gaines Olivia

Author:Gaines, Olivia [Gaines, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Davonshire House
Published: 2015-11-24T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12. Chicken, Waffles and What is That?

Ryanne woke to an empty bed and a very quiet room. There were no children and no Eduardo. In the background she could hear the chiming of the church bells in the village and it was 11 am. I overslept. Although her head was sitting up, the rest of her body ached with a fierceness that brought tears to her eyes. Every muscle in her figure moaned in protest. Her thighs burned like the muscles had been soaked in liquid ghost peppers. A loud groan rolled off her lips as she drug her body from the bed.

It had been two days but she hadn’t seen a housekeeper or a cook. There was food prepared and the beds were made not to mention there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere in the house, but she hadn’t seen anyone. What she needed was a long soak. The guest room she stayed in had only a standing shower. A light tap was made on Eduardo’s bathroom door, but he wasn’t inside. There is no tub in here either.

Disappointed, she quickly made the bed and slipped through the pocket door into the guest room. Her body felt sticky from Eduardo sleeping so close all night making her sweat. The warm waters from the shower was started as the small bath steamed up and she stepped under the head allowing the droplets to hit her aching shoulders and back. Once dressed she grabbed her laptop and cell phone. She made her way down the stairs to an empty house, or so she thought when she made her way into the kitchen to find a matronly woman plucking two chickens.

“Buenas,” Ryanne said to the woman.

“Good afternoon,” the lady responded.

“I am Dr. Dobbins, a guest of Seňor Delgado’s,” she said hoping the woman would give her a clue as to who she was.

“I know who you are Doctora.”

“This house is amazing, and I imagine it is a lot of work to keep clean. I was hoping to meet whomever was the housekeeper to say thank you, and that I would be gone by Saturday,” she said softly.

The woman continued to pluck the feathers from the two birds. Ryanne didn’t know what to make of it. “I hope I won’t be in your way if I make myself some tea and toast,” she said to the back of the woman’s head.

The silence between them was deafening as Ryanne toasted bread, spread on some jam while she waited for the kettle to sing. Suddenly the woman began to scream as blood gushed from her fingers. Ryanne ran to her side, grabbing a cloth to stop the bleeding. She also picked up the severed fingers from the sink.

How in the hell had she managed to cut off her fingers?

“Who do I call for help?” Ryanne asked the woman.

“Out the door, the gardener, he is my husband...” she whispered.

“Press on the cloth while I run out the back door,” Ryanne told her. She bolted for the back entry and found a man with a bag of bird seed.

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