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I needed to get the heck out of Dodge sooner rather than later. If Callen Brucewasa berserker, a death warrant hung over my head, and there it would stay, whether or not I admitted to the soul switch. I wasn’t his firebrand.
Although, there might be another means to approach this. I could try to keep him calm, as Isobel suggested, and do whatever proved necessary to win him to my side.
Gaining his affections would be a gamechanger. A way to (hopefully) walk away free and clear. As friends, I could convince him to help me snare Isobel without him ever learning the real reason why.
Yes, yes. This idea had merit. But first, my fact finding mission. The tour of the fortress.
Chapter
Five
Finding Inner Peace Amidst the Battle Cries: How to Keep Your Cool When He’s Lost His Sword
FromA Beginner’s Guide to Berserker Bliss
Author Unknown
Iflew up the staircase, my guard dogs directly behind me. Spying a young housekeeper, I pasted on my best smile and said, “If you have a moment, I’d love an official tour of the castle?—”
She dashed off.
Oookay. Thankfully I spotted a second employee. “Hi there,” I called.
This one paled, dropped her dusting cloth, and ran. I sighed. Clearly the problem was me. Although, if these women worked in the home of a fierce berserker king, I shouldn’t be a source of fright. Therefore, Isobel had lied. Because of course she had. Berserkers. In real life. How ridiculous.
Squaring my shoulders, I marched forward. I’d do thisthe old-fashioned way and open every door, drawer, cabinet, and cubby.
What I discovered during my search? Tons of bedrooms, each in a different shade of blue. Three sitting rooms practically begged me to relax and curl up with a new book. The modern, insanely luxurious theater had probably never showed a cozy mystery romance, something that would change if I stayed much longer. An awe-inspiring gym offered a high-tech treadmill I would be using to shed some stress. A first-class kitchen provided an enviable pantry and a delightful buttery. I’d always enjoyed baking. A way to snack extra good, yes, but also another means of relaxing an overworked mind.
Strange how there were zero photos or portraits of Callen and Isobel as a couple or even separate. Nothing to showcase snapshots of their lives. However, there were more—many more—of those paintings featuring heart removal. In most, the organ glowed. A plaque underneath each frame listed a date hundreds of years old. A few canvases presented female warriors dragging chained wolflike creatures to stone tables surrounded by piles of bones and hearts. Nearby, severed heads topped poles.
A massive solar showcased an array of ancient sculptures depicting fierce warriors, both men and women, fighting naked, their expressions frozen in varying stages of rage. They brandished strange weapons taller than me. Those same instruments of death filled an armory, also fully stocked with modern firepower.
Berserker worthy, though? Not really. But I could guess where Isobel had found inspiration for her story.
Get rid of the battlefield memorabilia and add a library overflowing with cozy mysteries, romances, and historical tomes, and the castle was my dream house.
Unfortunately, two locked rooms prevented me from completing my inspection. Both possessed massive entrances that spanned from floor to ceiling, with no transom. While the handles and hinges harkened to another time, the high-quality material doors had a contemporary vibe.
I rapped my knuckles against the polished finish of the first. Wood-plated steel? But where did it lead? To another bedroom? An even more serious armory? A playroom of debauchery? A collection of skulls? Seriously, what was Callen Bruce hiding from his brand-new wife?
I turned to the bodyguards who never left my side. “Do you know what’s in the locked rooms?”
They remained stoic and silent. Whatever. I’d learn the answer one way or another. Later. Needing time to think, I headed outside, minus my guards, and aimed for the garage I’d seen out some windows. Expensive cars filled the colossal space, but I found no keys.
Nearby, a stable teemed with thoroughbred horses. I petted one after the other, cooing with excitement. I’d always wanted to ride. Could I get one of these beauties out of its stall, climb aboard and gallop to safety? Maybe. But I still leaned toward my win-over Callen idea. He could pay to have Isobel brought straight to my door.
Yes, better to stay. To try. I mean, I risked danger either way.
From there, I discovered a five-star pool worthy of awards. The stonework glistened in sunlight, and the hot tub bubbled. A bridge stretched across a winding river, leading to a central firepit up top while hiding a private grotto below. A large cabana offered a delightful area with padded lounge chairs where I could watch armed guards patrolling the surrounding parapet. The cool temperaturelacked oppressive Oklahoma sunshine, only adding to the appeal. Plus…
I removed my shoes and dipped a toe in the water. Ah! Warm! The perfect complement to a heather-infused breeze. Isobel owned swimsuits; I’d seen them in her drawers. Why not relax, maybe log a few laps, and ponder the more disturbing things I’d discovered during my exploration? I mean wolf heads? Seriously?
“Shall I bring your usual refreshment, Mrs. Bruce?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
Startled by the intrusion, I spun and faced the speaker. The very maid I’d run into earlier. A petite brunette in her early twenties. She kept her gaze downcast. Afraid to meet my eyes? Props for gathering the courage to approach Isobel at all.
Using my gentlest tone, I told her, “Refreshment, yes. Usual, no.” I could guess the redhead’s preference. A bottle of whiskey, glass optional. No, thank you. I required brain food. “I’d love a fruit and vegetable smoothie. And a friend. If you bring two, we can–”
