Chapter Eleven
She was waiting for him. She would always wait. Of course, he’d created her being there, from the very first hint of seduction to the day he installed her in the attic he’d come to know as a sanctuary. She was always there in the diaphanous and erotic gowns, her eyes often looking out on the grounds of the old castle, at the flowers he’d planted for her down below and the pasture where the horses fed. There were stacks of books all around her, 19th century romances, gritty dramas, and thick histories of the world. There was every kind of food she loved. And beautiful music, CDs …but not the movies of the time, he didn’t want her feeling distressed because she couldn’t live in that world. She seemed to love the period pieces mostly. Perhaps that was because it was all that h
