Protected by Stone (A Paranormal Romance Novel)

Author:Cynthia Brint [Brint, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Romance, New Adult & College, Paranormal, Romantic Suspense, Mystery & Suspense, suspense, Demons & Devils, Ghosts, Psychics, Witches & Wizards
Amazon: B00HFFKCAG
Publisher: Paper Windows Publishing
Published: 2014-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen.

Cleaning made the day fly by.

It was sort of funny. I'd never cleaned my own apartment like this. Not once. Now, here I was scrubbing down a bannister with what I assumed was a safe product to use.

It says Ultra Clean, it has to be good.

I'd packed the larder with food, put more wood on to burn in the furnace, and even gone digging around for a recipe book.

With two roasts cooking in the oven, surrounded by potatoes I'd been wise enough to add some salt to, things were looking tidy.

To say I was trying to distract myself was downplaying it.

Pushing my hair back, I crinkled my nose for a sneeze. All the dust was getting to me, though the results were amazing. The house was starting to sparkle. It actually looks welcoming. Well. On the inside, anyway.

Thinking about the moss clinging to the roof sent my brain on a tangent. I knew of a particular room full of plants that could use some work.

Hm. I don't know anything about gardening. Imagining the overgrown greenhouse becoming tamed by my hands was intriguing. Especially when I pictured Grault's reaction. He did say it was his favorite room.

That shouldn't have influenced me. After his casual rebuke over my invite into town for errands, I was sure Grault wanted to keep our relationship strictly business related.

Wait, relationship? Quickly, I smacked my cheeks. What am I thinking? It must be all this dust, ugh.

I needed to keep moving. Otherwise, my mind was too happy to go down one of two roads: creepy grandmother sylph love, or weird thoughts about my so-called protector.

Is he my protector? Is that an actual job title? Leaning the duster into the closet, I tugged out a bucket full of gardening tools. I didn't know how to use them, but I could certainly recognize them. Is it what Tessa hired him for? I don't know how they met, what he did for her, any of it.

Considering I liked less and less of what I learned, I wondered if ignorance was better.

In Tessa's study, I found a few books about gardens. She seemed to like reading about the stuff, if the size of the tomes was an indicator. Gathering up a few, I tucked them under my arm. I was about to leave, but my eye was drawn back to the photo book I'd left on her desk.

No, another time.

Carrying everything was difficult, but it was getting up the courage to go down the left hallway that proved the real struggle. The memory of my last exploration, that tiny door chasing me around, was very clear.

Stop it, just go forward. It'll be fine. It wasn't sound logic. I was relieved when my steps brought me down to the end of the passage without any issues.

Breathing in deep, my pulse flickered at the sight of the greenhouse. It was as beautiful as the first time.

Well, slightly less beautiful with the missing shirtless figure of Grault. His back gleaming, those intricate and alluring tattoos of wings stark on his snowy flesh.

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