Page 2 of Love Beyond Reach (Morna’s Legacy #11)

“I don’t think I would care too much if we got stuck out here. Surely a castle as old as this wouldn’t be too hard to slip into after everyone leaves for the night. To sleep in a place like this would be pure heaven.”

Marcus couldn’t sound less enthused. “It probably has ghosts.”

“Oh, I hope so. All of the best ones do.”

Marcus’ hand on her forearm drew her attention away from the tall window she stood gazing out of. “Hey, look. We’re not alone, after all. Still, I agree with you that it’s nice being around fewer people.”

Sure enough, as Laurel turned she could see two people approaching—an older woman accompanied by a young boy who held himself very proudly as he walked.

“Let’s head down toward the other end, Marcus, so that they have this area of the castle to themselves.”

The woman and boy said nothing to either of them as they passed, but Laurel found herself struck by the intensity of the unabashed stare she received from both of them.

She gave them a friendly smile in return, and the young boy raised his left hand and waved in greeting before they went on their way.

“Did you see the way they both stared at me? Has my blouse popped open or something?”

Laurel looked self-consciously down at herself as she tried to make sense of their wide, questioning eyes.

“No. Everything is covered as far as I can tell. Maybe they recognized you.”

Laurel laughed and continued to move down the long hallway toward the last room at its end.

“Did you see how small that child was? There is no way he knows who I am. If his parents let him read one of my books at his age, then God help him. No, it definitely wasn’t that. Maybe they were staring at you, and I just mistook the direction of the boy’s gaze.”

“Because I’m black? Come on, Laurel. Surely you think better of them than that.”

Laurel couldn’t tell if he was joking, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he wasn’t. Marcus had so many wonderful qualities. While his humility was to be admired, it drove her crazy just how incapable he seemed of recognizing his own attractiveness.

“No, Marcus. I most definitely didn’t think they were staring at you because you are black. Perhaps they were staring at you because the only other human I’ve seen with your shape is the guy who plays Captain America.”

Marcus huffed and stepped into the room to their right.

“I can already predict what you are going to say about this room.”

Laurel remained just outside the doorway as she awaited his prediction.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You are going to say that out of all the castles and all the rooms you’ve seen, this is by far your favorite.”

She knew he teased her. Regardless, he was bound to be wrong. The room that lay ahead of her couldn’t possibly beat the tower room they’d seen in the castle two days before.

“Let’s just see about that, shall we?”

Determined to come up with a reaction opposite of what Marcus expected, Laurel stepped inside, looked around, and found herself completely unable to do so.

The room was perfect in every way. The things she loved most in all the world lined three of the four walls—books.

“It drives me crazy when you’re right. This beats the tower.”

“I knew you were going to say that. I knew it even before I stepped inside. I read about it in the guidebook and knew you’d love it.

I can see by the happy, glazed expression on your face that you’ll be in here a while.

I think I’ll go explore the dungeon while you do so. I’ll come back for you in a bit.”

Marcus nudged her playfully before leaving her alone in the room. Once he was gone, she inhaled deeply and smiled. The smell of books gave her the same kind of energy coffee did for some. She thrived off them, lived in them, made her living from them. In a room full of books, she felt at home.

She knew that the books lining the shelves didn’t quite fit the historical nature of the castle—the bindings and covers were enough to tell her that none could be more than a hundred years old. Still, that knowledge did not reduce her love for what surrounded her now.

She moved to the far wall and slowly trailed her fingers along the spines moving row after row, bottom to top.

It was a game she often played in libraries—letting her fingers trail the spines of many books until she felt something draw her to one in particular.

As her fingers moved, she glanced to her left and took notice of a lone book sitting on a side table.

Her fingers moved toward it instinctively.

She only resisted sitting on the old piece of furniture for a few seconds. As she picked up the book, she sank into the soft, empty chair, eager to read.

The chair was old and for a moment she feared it would collapse underneath her, but as she settled in more fully, it seemed to wrap her up in a way that invited her to do nothing more than read.

Marcus would occupy himself for ages while exploring the castle grounds. It wouldn’t hurt anyone for her to take a moment to herself.

She opened the book gently. While it surprised her to see that the words were in English, it was the handwritten note inside that piqued her interest in a way nothing else ever had.

To whomever finds this book, you should know that it was meant just for you.

Tuck it away in your bag, hide it beneath your shirt, but whatever you do, do not return it to the place it rested before.

For many would read the pages contained within and dismiss my every memory and word as nothing more than fiction.

But you, my first and last reader, will read these words and hear the truth in them.

Read these words. Love them, tend to them, believe them, and then once you’ve made peace with the truth, come and find me. By my story’s end, you will know where.

Until we meet,

Morna Conall

P.S. Those who know me well know I have a terrible habit of butting in pretty much whenever I feel like it, and I’m afraid I found myself doing the same thing with my writing.

As I was preparing my story, I realized that in some instances my conversational voice—sort of like this letter—was needed to show you even more.

These little intrusions are scattered throughout the book.

Think of them as author notes, if you will.

P.P.S. My husband has also seen fit to throw in his two cents, so you’ll find parts of the book written by him, as well. It may all sound rather confusing now, but I have a keen sense of just how bright you are. You’ll have no trouble at all, I’m sure. Now, get to reading. We have no time to waste.

“ D amn .” Laurel whispered the word aloud to herself, shaking her head at the book with mesmerized awe.

Whatever the reason for such strange words, the author must have known that it would be impossible for the reader who stumbled upon them to do anything other than read on.

She didn’t know anyone whose curiosity would allow them to do differently.

Smiling at the wit and the wonder of it, Laurel happily flipped to the next page and continued reading, never suspecting for a moment how such an act would change her life forever.