WUTHERING BITES

Chapter Seven: The Storm

Chapter Seven

The Storm

His cravings had been less extreme this evening and he was fairly sure the parlour, where he kept his supply of freshly caught game, was locked. He did not wish this stranger to encounter an instant surprise. It would turn her off ever returning and Heath did not want to risk that just yet. He could only imagine the look of horror on her face if she was to discover his secret. They reached the gates through the midnight mist and Heath stopped the car with a jolt. He drove the vehicle fast and hard. He was not used to having guests. Heath had little thought for his passenger. Katarina arrived at the house looking white and surprised.

The girl shivered.

'Are you cold?'

'Yes.'

'Here, take this,' he said absently.

Heath pulled a red shawl out of the glove compartment and handed it to her.

'Who's?'

'It was your mother's,' he added.

Katarina didn't bother to ask what it was doing in his car.

The girl's fingers had practically frozen during the twenty minute drive that took them from icy country lane to mansion gates. Katarina had heard about this place only once during her childhood, had seen it from the heath but had never dared venture into its overrun grounds. They entered the hidden garden through the foggy, wrought iron gates that led to Hareton Hall.

After a few minutes of walking across slippery grounds, strange, open-mouthed statues greeted Katarina at the grand entrance.

Her father had never allowed her to speak of the Spencers and especially not her uncle. But recently, she and her cousin Linus had connected via the web and Katarina was more than a little intrigued about the mysterious 'other half' of her family. The outside lights came on as they walked over the gravel towards the front door which was overrun with creepers.

Her father would be concerned about her late night visit to The Hall but Katarina was fed up with being wrapped in egg shells. She pulled the red shawl round her shoulders and stuffed her curls into her woollen cap, dragging it over her ears.

'Quick,' Heath said, rubbing his hands. 'It's frozen out here. Be careful of the ice.'

She took his arm, surprised at how hard and strong the muscles felt. She hadn't expected her workaholic uncle to be so welcoming.

'I give the staff leave on weekends, can't stand them about me and I usually work on Saturdays anyway,' he added, amiably enough. Rude, arrogant, reclusive were all words she had heard in connection with this man. So far, he was nothing like his press.

Apart from a few cobwebs at the side of the stone entrance, which was covered with climbing plants, the interior of the hall was miraculous; turning a simple switch lit up grand chandeliers that led to a parlour, kitchen and vast hall and dining room. There was a series of ancestral portraits lining the walls to the right of the entrance - one of her mother. The interiors were lush but tasteful.

Heath wandered into the kitchen after they'd walked the length of the entrance.

Katarina was agog. She was used to being the richest girl at her all-girls' school but she had never seen such opulence. Her hand brushed the entrance hall side table and wall

of mirrors as they walked towards the drawing room.

'Ah, I see Greta's left a note. Greta was my housekeeper and she used to look after your mother and me...when we were little. She was not much older than we were. Seems funny now,' he mused as he found the key to the cabinet.