“Do we really want to live in Anton’s Walls?” Eleanor asked as they sat in the lounge bar of the Wardlaw Inn.
Thomas smiled. “The renovations are complete,” he said. “We have a generator for electricity, water and sewage, and I’ve even had two of the rooms painted and papered.”
“Only two?” Eleanor asked.
“We can do the rest ourselves,” Thomas told her. “I’ll do the skilled work, and you can be my labourer.”
Eleanor fought mixed emotions. She partly dreaded living with such a grim history while simultaneously wanting the peace of the moor and her own home and possessions around her. She also wanted to solve the mystery of what happened to Sir Andrew Douglas.
“I am not sure about living where so much evil occurred,” Eleanor said.
Thomas took hold of her hands. “We’ve both seen the obsc
