Duke Charming | Craig

Fourteen

Craig led me down a broad hallway I've never seen before. The marble floor was covered with a carpet that stretched on for as long as we remained there, and portraits of people lined the ancient walls. They were mostly men, their appearances and outfits different in each painting as though they were keeping up with the times.

"The Balfours o' the past," Craig said when he noticed my staring, his voice proud. "Aye, Craven Pride has been in our family since the very start. This bloke 'ere," he pointed at the first portrait, "started it all. Craven Balfour. Don't ask me 'bout his middle names, since I'm pretty sure we'd be standin' 'ere till mornin'."

I grinned at his comment. "So, Craven was the first werewolf?"

"No' the first in the world, no, but in Scotland? I'd say so." He slowly moved along the portraits, naming them as he pointed them out, "After Craven came Alistair, his eldest. He had a lot o' children, happily died of ol' age, and his son Barclay took it from there. After Barclay came Calder – he was a wee bit of a fixer-upper emotionally speakin'. But turned out, all he needed was his bonnie lass to tidy 'im up, and next thing we know, kids."

I laughed how he clapped his hands for emphasis.

"After Calder came Cormac, after 'im Donal – great lad – after 'im Graham who only had one son Lachlan, who's mate was a lass from Wales, and they had Ramsay Balfour, who happened to be my ol' man." Craig moved to the last portrait and looked at it nostalgically, a tender smile playing over his features. "And last but no' least, Selene Balfour, ol' mum. She passed away six months ago after she started seein' visions of ol' dad."

"I'm so sorry," I said sincerely, cautiously reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. "I can't imagine how it must have felt to lose a parent."

He enclosed his hand around mine before I could move away. "It was a wee bit of a sad day, but it was her time." Craig looked at me and smiled. "She would've liked ya. But, ey, perhaps she's still around, ye know? They say no matter how at peace a wolf is when they pass, if somethin' keeps their soul tethered to th' earth, they'll continue to roam till all loose ends are tied."

"Wait, are you saying your mother might be haunting the castle?" My brows nearly reached my hairline. "No disrespect, of course, but I'd like to know these things before waking up in the middle of the night with a woman at the foot of my bed."

Craig laughed, a jovial sound that brought my soul to life. "No, what I said was she might be roaming if she died with loose ends. But I don't think she did. Rheon's curse was broken, the witch was killed, and she passed knowin' her legacy was safe and taken care of. Aye, the ol' girl is at peace, I know it."

I guessed I had to take his word for it. However, the miniscule possibility of running into a ghost at night still gave me chills.

"Let's keep movin'," Craig's voice cleared my thoughts. "It's not far. I think you'll like it."

So, I followed him, my hand still in his.

***

In case of an emergency or a fire, at least I now knew of three different exits in the castle that either led to the driveway, the patio, or the garden. How many exits remained undiscovered, I had no idea, but I was willing to bet at least three more.

How anyone could explore every nook and cranny of this place in their lifetime was beyond me. It seemed every turn I took was a turned unexplored, every new hallway an uncharted passage, and if someone told me the castle came with secret passages and underground tunnels, I wouldn't be surprised.

Places this old were bound to have their secrets.

But our destination wasn't anywhere near the castle, despite Craig saying it wasn't far. Correction, it was that far, but it felt like it if you had to navigate the garden and gravel with four-inch heels that sank away into the ground when you stepped on grass.