Tall, Dark and Kilted by Allie MacKay

Author:Allie MacKay
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781440602238
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2008-11-04T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

A trace of sandalwood greeted Cilla the instant Aunt Birdie threw open Dunroamin’s front door. A trill of excitement made her heart jump as they hurried into the castle’s vast mausoleum-like entry. Behind them, Leo’s excited, high-pitched yips still resounded from the garden.

Glancing back, Cilla saw the little dog dash across the lawn, racing for the terrace. Violet Manyweathers followed at a slower pace. Colonel Darling trudged along behind her, the three-legged creepie tucked beneath his arm.

Amazingly, Violet sported his deerstalker hat.

“Would you look at that?” Cilla grabbed her aunt’s elbow, pulling her back to the door. “He gave Violet his hat.”

Aunt Birdie laughed. “I told you he’s all bluster.” She shifted the devil mask on her hip. “He’ll be worried Violet will catch a cold if she gets her head wet. Between us, I think he’s a bit soft on her.”

Cilla smiled and reached to turn up her jacket collar. Violet Manyweathers wasn’t the only one in danger of getting drenched. Colder and increasing in strength, the wind slung icy splinters of rain against the castle and across the stone of the outside steps.

A wet gust swept past them into the entry, lifting the edges of the tapestries and making a few of the standing suits of armor rattle in their wall niches. Aunt Birdie shoved at the heavy oaken door with her hip and Cilla rushed to help her, pushing with both hands. They strained against the wind until the door slammed shut with a bang.

“Wow, those have to be gale-force winds.” Cilla swept a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes.

Then she frowned.

An aquatic chorus filled the air.

And it wasn’t the rain lashing at the windows. The great din came from the dark passage leading away from the entry and deeper into the castle.

Drips, plinks, plonks, and—most alarming of all—the distant gush of running water.

“The roof leaks!” She flashed a horrified look at her aunt. “I didn’t realize it was so bad.”

Aunt Birdie glanced at the rain-streaked windows. “Only on such nights. As you can see”—she jerked her head at a plastic bucket near the silvered feet of one of the standing knights—“we’re quite prepared.”

A door on the other side of the entry flew open and Honoria sailed in, her arms lined with what looked to be dented and rusting milk pails.

“We’ve used up our supply of drip catchers.” She didn’t break stride as she hurried past. “I fetched these from the old byre. They should keep us dry!”

Then she was gone, her tweedy bulk nipping around a corner as quickly as she’d appeared. The ancient milking pails clinked in her wake.

Looking not at all put out, Aunt Birdie hitched the red devil mask against her hip again and started down the dimly lit passage.

The one that echoed with the loudest drip serenade.

“Aunt Birdie!” Cilla hastened after her, dodging trickles and weaving her way around the assorted buckets, pails, and cook pots lining the plaid-carpeted passage. “You can’t live like this!”

Her aunt stopped at once.

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