Well, God Bless, there's an honest-to-goodness castle!
Harper was torn between wanting to pull over and gawk at the imposing, beautiful structure as it glowed in the early morning light, or putting pedal to metal and speed up the winding path so she could get to it quicker!
It's one thing to see a castle in a picture or in movies, but you just don't see massive castles in the Good Ol' US of A! Especially ones that looked straight out of one of those movies. For a brief moment, Harper considered. Had she pulled an Outlander? Was she actually living one of her beloved romance novels? Just for those few, sweet heartbeats, Harper was the giddy young girl she had once been, caught up in a fantasy of being a princess and meeting a knight in shining armor, or a studly Highlander in a kilt, who would slay all her dragons and sweep her off her feet.
That's when her more pragmatic side, the ruthless realist she had embraced to become one of Atlanta's top contract lawyers, reared back and ruthlessly forced her pretty little princess side back into the dungeon where she belonged! Yes, Harper's internal monologues were usually narrated by either the love child of Cinderella and Scarlet O'Hare or the evil spawn of Cruella De Vil—the Glenn Close version, naturally—and Miranda Priestly in Devil Wears Prada.
Mmm, Prada. And just like that, Harper's fascination switched from the castle as she debated whether or not she could justify getting that eight-thousand-dollar etiquette bag in begonia and astral blue she had been eyeballing the last few months.
With both sides of her mind focused entirely now on thoughts of that bag, Harper's lips turned up in a small smile as she drove up to the castle. Okay, so apparently, it was called a château, but that always brought up mental images of a ski lodge. While the setting was definitely spot-on, this place had the whole towers, pennants crisply snapping in the breeze, and gargoyles perched on ledges, and even a frigging drawbridge, although there was no moat or anything. Instead, the castle perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a valley that was struggling to shrug off the last dusting of snow.
Harper drove Little Lady over the drawbridge, and into a large courtyard. With the small cargo container attached to her Laramie, she had to pull into one of the larger spaces further back, but given the size of Little Lady, Harper was quite used to having to walk. They just didn't make most parking lots built to handle Little Lady's curves!
As she was climbing out of the truck, Harper heard a familiar voice call out, "Harpy!"
Internally, Harper cringed at the nickname, but she turned around and gave her best Southern smile as she met the deceptively innocent looking eyes of a short, curvy redhead making a beeline across the parking lot.
"Samantha, sweetie," Harper replied, coating her words with an extra serving of honey as she addressed the one person on the planet brave enough to call her 'Harpy.' "Bless your itty, bitty, teeny, tiny heart."
Samantha "Sam" Kelly just laughed, one of those real, snorting laughs that brought a real smile to Harper's face as the shorter woman threw herself into Harper's arms.
"Hey! I know that's an insult now!" Sam huffed in her rather distinctive husky, throaty voice as she squeezed Harper with surprising strength, although her voice was kind of muffled as she was face-first in Harper's chest. "Now give us a hug, you heifer!"
With an outward show of reluctance, but inwardly tickled pink, Harper returned Sam's hug and bussed Sam's cheeks.
"You're just jealous," Harper said as she leaned back to take a good look at her best friend—okay, so her only real friend, but that automatically made Sam her bestie, didn't it?
Arching a brow, Sam glared over the rim of her glasses at Harper with a doubtful look, "Jealous?"
"That I don't need a stepladder to reach the cookie jar," Harper grinned fully at Sam's bark of laughter. "Now let's get a look at you, girl!"
Samantha was looking pretty good, considering just a few short weeks ago, she had been back in Seattle, taking refuge at her parents' place while she dealt with the fallout from being set-up to take the fall for an environmental disaster of rather significant damage.
Dressed casually, and appropriately, for the brisk April morning, Sam wore one of her trademark flannel shirts, the buttons undone enough to show a healthy hint of cleavage—something she rarely did. A pair of jeans and the usual hiking boots completed Sam's usual daily "uniform," complete with a pair of red-framed cats' eye glasses. Her nose ring glinted in the dawn's early light, a subtle ruby stud, and those beautiful blue-gray eyes were perfectly emphasized and highlighted with a glittery silver-teal eyeshadow. She even had that mythical "glow" about her, the one those romance novels always spoke about. Harper's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Wait a cotton-picking minute, are you wearing make-up?" Harper was shocked! Sam barely ever wore make-up, even when they'd brave the clubs in college. Grabbing Sam's hands, she held them up and inspected them. "You even have your nails done!"
Squinting suspiciously, Harper voiced her suspicion, "What's his name? Is he good enough for you?"
Cackling, Sam shook her hands free of Harper's grasp. "His name's Rik, and of course not!"
With a quick glance back over her shoulder, Sam lowered her voice as she confided, "But he's a god-damned god in the sack, so guess I'll keep him around."
"Blasphemer," Harper muttered with a smirk, "Your mama would wash your mouth out if she heard you now!" Arching a perfectly elegant eyebrow, Harper nodded her head towards Sam's left hand, "And I see no rings, either...so you're living in sin as well!"
"Well, I could change my name to Jezebel," Sam offered, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Then ruined the effect by laughing, "Yeah, my mother would go nuclear at that, so probably a bad idea."
Grabbing Harper's arm, Sam started dragging the taller woman towards the castle's main door. "Come on, let's go get you checked in and everything, then I'll show you to your place so you can get some rest..."
Sam paused, forcing Harper to stumble to a stop before she trampled the shorter woman. Looking down, Harper caught Sam's determined expression, "But we're meeting for dinner tonight, so don't make any plans! Now, let's go!" And off she went, tugging on Harper's arm once more.
Groaning, but giving in as gracefully as possibly when you were being physically manhandled...er, Samhandled...by a way-too-frigging-energetic-for-six-AM Sam, Harper clicked the button to electronically lock Little Lady and tucked her keys into her hoodie pocket. Why did she suddenly feel like she walking the lion's den?
No sooner had the thought cross her mind, Harper saw the massive lion-headed knockers set into the towering double-doors that led into the castle's lobby. Okay, now that's not an ominous omen or anything. Not at all!
As she stepped, or was dragged, whatever, over the threshold, Harper once more had that feeling she had stepped back in time. The entire entryway was something straight out of a movie, with slate floors covered with a wide, burgundy and gold carpet bisecting the huge foyer. An absolutely enormous chandelier of cut crystal and flickering candles soared in the cathedral ceiling overhead, casting prismatic flickers throughout the room. She was unsurprised to see life-sized suits of armor situated along the walls, and huge shields with swords, spears, and other weaponry arranged on the walls. Despite the otherwise medieval décor, here and there were touches of rustic modern that managed to feel like a natural evolution instead of clashing eras.
Sam led her directly towards a large reception desk, set between grand stairways that led up to the second-floor gallery. As the two women approached, a distinguished older gentleman rose from behind the computer. His hair was more silver than black, pulled into a thick braid that fell down his back, while his skin was a rich, burnished bronze, eyes dark and lively with amusement as he watched Sam dragging the much taller Harper towards him. Despite his silvery hair, his features were smooth, with only a hint of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and narrow lips.
"Good morning, m'Lady Samantha," he said with a polite half-bow before turning his attention to Harper, bestowing a wide smile as he met Harper's bemused expression. "And welcome to Château de Lyon, m'lady."
"Daniel, this is Harper Llewellyn," Sam waved up at Harper, "She's the new glass artisan for the Faire, so she'll be staying in the Village, so no need to bother Misty! Clara said she left some stuff for Harper with you?"
How did I forget what a little dictator Sam could be? Harper chuckled, giving Daniel a sheepish shrug as she offered her hand. "Good morning, Daniel. A real pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Daniel accepted her hand, leaning over to brush a polite kiss over her knuckles, before he drew himself up regally. With a tilt to his jaw, he gave her a courteous, but warm, smile. "'Tis indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance, m'lady Harper, and there is no bother. Mistress Clara has made all the arrangements for your stay."
Okay, the formal cant to his speech, spoken with a hint of Midwestern twang, almost drew a rather un-Harper-like giggle, but she managed to control herself as Daniel reached into the desk and pulled something out.
He presented her with a large, thick vellum envelope, complete with one of those red wax seals, imprinted with a glittering gold shield displaying a rampant lion beneath three hearts, much like the coat of arms displayed throughout the Estates.
As Harper took the package, Daniel continued in that deep, resonant voice of his, "Mistress Clara left your keys, security passcodes, contact lists, a map of the Estates and Village, vendor information, as well as the documents you requested for your approval. The utilities for your cottage will be turned on by the time you arrive, and you'll find the vendor-only WiFi passwords as well. If there is anything else you need, you can call the concierge number provided."
Tucking the package under her arm, Harper offered her own polite, professional, but sincere smile. "Thank you most kindly, Daniel."
Business out of the way, Sam piped up, "Give Danny a hello for me, Daniel!" Once more grabbing Harper's arm—where the heck had she gotten that particular habit from, Harper wondered—Sam led her back outside the castle...er, Château! Harper really had to remember to call the castle that.
As they approached Little Lady, Sam released her grip on Harper's arm before disappearing around the passenger side. Unlocking the truck, Harper climbed in, then watched with amusement as Sam glared up at her from outside the passenger side.
"Big enough truck, heifer?" Sam muttered, pushing up the sleeves of her flannel shirt before hauling herself up.
Harper started to smirk, but squinted as she caught the faintest glimmer of something sparkling along Sam's left arm. For just a moment, Harper thought she saw what looked to be a tattoo of some sort, but as Sam settled into her seat, she pulled the cuffs back down and quirked a brow at her.
"Something wrong?" Sam asked in a way-too-innocent voice that only further strengthened Harper's suspicions.
Harper almost, almost let her mental barriers down, releasing the tight grip she had been forced to keep on herself for twenty years. In the end, however, it was simply the manners that had been drilled into her since she could remember that forced her to drop it.
With a shake of her head, Harper started up the truck and said instead, "Not a thing, sweetie. Not a thing."