Page 3 of Vile Pucker

“Are these gates usually closed?” I added curiously.

“No. . .usually they’re left open. Occasionally it’s safer to close them, though.”

He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t want to pry further with the big pumpkin settled with such domestic bliss on my lap. I would let Lucian tell me his family lore on his own time.

“Allegedly, back many generations ago, my ancestors burned witches out in one of the groves beyond the home. Not anymore,of course. Now the only people who live there are the servants, who keep it clean for when me, my son, or my brother come to visit. And we’re all in town this weekend. It’ll be quite the little family reunion for you.”

Lucian’s sporty little car wound through the narrow path of the driveway, the trees plump with fall colors and twisted branches pressing in on all sides of us.

“This is really quite spooky!” I said delightedly.

And then we had broken free of the trees at last and were in sight of the house.

It was massive, a sprawling gray-stone manor with narrow dark windows and high turrets and peaks, with barren woods stretching behind it.

I could barely take in everything at once. On the right side as we drew closer was a large pond, stretching out over the lawn.

The water looked heavy, fallen leaves gathering on the jagged stones that peeked through the pond’s stagnant surface.

A wooden bridge stretched over the water, but it looked unstable, with large chunks missing.

That would make such an picturesque spot for a fall engagement shoot, I couldn’t help thinking.

But there was just as much to see on the other side as we pulled up to park.

“Is that a crypt?” I cried.

Lucian nodded. “All the Devereaux have been buried there or in the surrounding graveyard for generations.”

“So much history,” I breathed, squeezing his arm appreciatively.

I tried not to get ahead of myself, but I could see myself as the mistress of this place. If Lucian and I went on as we were.

We could live at his cottage on campus and come to Ashgrove Manor on the weekend.

Indoors, the historical significance of the manor struck me immediately.

It was remarkably maintained as it had been for generations, with old-fashioned lamps along the hallways that cast small pools of light.

Surely that would mean the whole manor was very dark and hard to navigate at night?

But perhaps there were sound architectural reasons for not modernizing it more. Really, the whole effect was charming.

I was thrilled to be introduced to the staff as well.

Not to mention, Lucian had a real-lifebutler, a man in his late 50s named Branby.

Branby was a powerful man with ham-like hands and a grim, set expression on his face.

“He looks like a security guard,” I teased Lucian as we began to unpack our things in his large, airy room. Even though the walls were stone, a cheerful fire was crackling in the grate.

“He has been a part of the family for as long as I can remember,” Lucian laughed, bending to kiss my throat.

This is a lovely view, I thought as I laid my laptop and textbooks on the desk by the window. I could look out over the grounds as I did my work.

“Oh, honey, remember, we don’t have Wifi here,” Lucian said.

“No Wifi?” I asked in some consternation.