The Castle Read online

  THE CASTLE

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  www.barbaracartland.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the Internet in January 2011

  ISBNs

  978-1-908411-71-6 Epub

  978-1-908411-72-3 Prc

  978-1-908411-73-0 Pdf

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  eBook conversion by M-Y Books

  THE CASTLE

  Then she started to walk alongside the moat with its tangle of brambles, weeds and rubbish.

  It looked a terrible mess, but Valeria could see that the bottom was more or less dry.

  Beyond the moat, The Castle was surrounded with smooth green fields, which eventually gave way to a curve of woodland.

  Deep in thought Valeria followed the moat working her way back to the drawbridge.

  This was clearly not a residential part of The Castle as there were no windows in the walls and behind them were the stables and working areas.

  Suddenly she was swept off her feet and dragged into the trees.

  She struggled against the strong arms that held her and tried to scream.

  Then she shuddered as her mouth was closed in a passionate kiss.

  As her bones turned to liquid, she realised that her captor was Sir Peter Cousins!

  With a long sigh he raised his lips, looked into her eyes and breathed,

  “I have waited days for this kiss.”

  THE BARBARA CARTLAND PINK COLLECTION

  Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.

  She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.

  Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.

  Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.

  The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.

  The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.

  The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.

  If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :

  BarbaraCartland.com

  Camfield Place

  Hatfield

  Hertfordshire

  AL9 6JE

  United Kingdom

  Telephone: +44 1707 642629

  Fax: +44 1707 663041

  Titles in this series

  These titles are currently available for download. For more information please see the Where to buy page at the end of this book.

  The Cross Of Love

  Love In The Highlands

  Love Finds The Way

  The Castle Of Love

  Love Is Triumphant

  Stars In The Sky

  The Ship Of Love

  A Dangerous Disguise

  Love Became Theirs

  Love Drives In

  Sailing To Love

  The Star Of Love

  Music Is The Soul Of Love

  Love In The East

  Theirs To Eternity

  A Paradise On Earth

  Love Wins In Berlin

  In Search Of Love

  Love Rescues Rosanna

  A Heart In Heaven

  The House Of Happiness

  Royalty Defeated By Love

  The White Witch

  They Sought Love

  Love Is The Reason For Living

  They Found Their Way To Heaven

  Learning To Love

  Journey To Happiness

  A Kiss In The Desert

  The Heart Of Love

  The Richness Of Love

  For Ever And Ever

  An Unexpected Love

  Saved By An Angel

  Touching The Stars

  Seeking Love

  Journey To Love

  The Importance Of Love

  Love By The Lake

  A Dream Come True

  The King Without A Heart

  The Waters Of Love

  Danger To The Duke

  A Perfect Way To Heaven

  Follow Your Heart

  In Hiding

  Rivals For Love

  A Kiss From The Heart

  Lovers In London

  This Way To Heaven

  A Princess Prays

  Mine For Ever

  The Earl’s Revenge

  Love At The Tower

  Ruled By Love

  Love Came From Heaven

  Love And Apollo

  The Keys Of Love

  A Castle Of Dreams

  A Battle Of Brains

  A Change Of Hearts

  It Is Love

  The Triumph Of Love

  Wanted – A Royal Wife

  A Kiss Of Love

  To Heaven With Love

  Pray For Love

  The Marquis Is Trapped

  Hide And Seek For Love

  Hiding from Love

  A Teacher Of Love

  Money Or Love

  The Revelation Is Love

  The Tree Of Love

  The Magnificent Marquis

  The Castle

  THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND

  Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.

  Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.

  Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and po
litical issues, as well as making many public appearances.

  In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.

  Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.

  “Over the years I have stayed in many castles mostly in the Highlands of Scotland and on the whole they are uncomfortable, draughty and damp, but despite this there is always an atmosphere of romance that is compelling and intriguing in every castle.”

  Barbara Cartland

  CHAPTER ONE

  1897

  It was a beautiful morning.

  Early mist wreathed mystery around the landscape, but behind the haze there was the promise of sunshine.

  Valeria Montford exulted in the freshness of the air and the high spirits of her horse. She had cantered up a hill and now sat down for a moment drinking in the view over the Loire valley.

  Valeria loved France and she particularly loved the château where her friend, Juliette Desrivières, lived.

  From where she had halted, Valeria could see, far away, the towers of the Desrivières château.

  Valeria had met Juliette at their finishing school in Brussels. They had become best friends and at the end of the year, Juliette had invited Valeria to a house party at the château.

  “You must come,” Juliette had said. “I want you to meet Jean-Pierre Delacourt.”

  Valeria sighed. Another young man!

  Juliette was always falling in love with a different one every few weeks.

  “Jean-Pierre? Who is he? You haven’t mentioned him before.”

  The opportunities for meeting the opposite sex at the Finishing School were not many, but somehow Juliette managed to flirt with an astonishing range of young men.

  Juliette gave a little sigh.

  “I met the Comte Delacourt some time ago. ’E is a near neighbour of ours on the Loire. It would be a match most acceptable. Both families wish that I accept his offer of marriage!”

  Valeria looked at the set expression on her face and unusually decided not to question her friend further.

  “Of course I would like to come and stay with you, Juliette, you know I always love visiting your family.”

  The house party was great fun.

  There were a number of young people staying at the château and expeditions and parties had been arranged.

  Valeria danced and flirted with several of the young men. Laughter and gaiety were as necessary to her as food and drink. She loved being in company and enjoyed being told how attractive she was.

  Last night there had been a grand ball.

  Juliette’s engagement to Jean-Pierre Delacourt had been announced and they had opened the dancing.

  Valeria had watched as Juliette in a lovely pink silk dress circled the ballroom with her fiancé.

  She had smiled and looked happily at her partner, but Valeria felt she lacked the especial sparkle that had so marked her in the adventures they had enjoyed together.

  At once Valeria had been claimed for dances.

  More young men wanted to partner her than there were opportunities. She had laughed and told the unlucky ones that they would have to wait for another party.

  Which could well be the next night or the one after, for all the great châteaux around were throwing parties.

  It had been extremely late before the band stopped playing and the guests drifted off to bed.

  “Don’t wake me up in the morning, chérie,” Juliette had said to Valeria. “I shall be too tired for our usual ride.”

  And this was a shame as Valeria had been looking forward to hearing more about her feelings for the Count.

  So Valeria set off on her own on a spirited stallion urging him on, feeling anxious to dismiss her worries about Juliette.

  Soon they were flying down the gentle slope of the hillside, horse and rider exulting in the thrill of the ride.

  A hedge came up and Valeria did not hesitate to set the stallion to jump it.

  Then – disaster!

  On the other side of the hedge, the ground sloped unexpectedly steeply, the horse stumbled and Valeria was catapulted onto the hard ground.

  For a moment she lay there winded, wondering how many limbs she had broken.

  Nervously, she tried to move first her arms and then her legs, which luckily all seemed to be in working order.

  Wincing at the pain of her bruises, she sat up and looked around for the stallion, dreading to find that it had broken a leg.

  Then she saw a horseman galloping towards her.

  Almost before his horse was brought to a stop, he was dismounting.

  “Are you badly hurt?” he asked, as he dropped to his knees beside her. “I saw you fall. I feared you might have broken your neck.”

  He was obviously a fellow countryman.

  Valeria was mortified.

  She had always prided herself on her horsemanship and her riding skill was often commented on. Now a moment’s carelessness had brought down both her and her mount.

  She allowed the Englishman to help her to her feet, biting her lip as she tried to think of something to say that would not betray her anger at being in such a situation.

  “Thank you, sir,” she managed to grind out finally. “I must see to my horse.”

  The stallion had by now struggled onto his feet and the Englishman gently felt down his damaged leg.

  “It’s not broken but badly sprained. I’m afraid you will not be able to ride him.”

  He straightened.

  “I believe that I address Miss Montford. We met last night.”

  Valeria picked up the little tricorn hat, which had come off in her fall and tried to remember this man from the many that had been introduced to her at the ball.

  He stood stroking the neck of the injured stallion.

  “Charles Waterford,” he offered helpfully. “Such was the crush of eager suitors, you were unable to grant me a dance, which was a great disappointment. I am staying with some neighbours of the Desrivières and was kindly included in their invitation to last night’s festivities.”

  Valeria could not recall meeting Charles Waterford the previous night.

  She did not want to meet Charles Waterford now.

  Not in such circumstances.

  She was not at all used to feeling anything less than perfect – perfectly turned out, perfectly beautiful, perfectly at ease.

  “Such a wonderful party, wasn’t it?” she remarked, wondering how she was going to extricate herself from this impossible situation. “Juliette is really such a beautiful girl and looked lovely.”

  “Not as lovely as you, Miss Montford.”

  It was the sort of response that normally she would have expected and accepted with a sweet smile. But it was said so simply and directly that Valeria, angry with herself as she was, found it disconcerting.

  Even more disconcerting was the reaction she felt to the way his grey eyes gazed at her.

  She felt her heart give an unusual beat and the hairs on her head seemed to tingle. It was just as though she was about to lose control of who she was.

  Valeria was a girl who valued her self-control. She had seen other girls dissolve into hysterics, burst into tears or blush at the admiration of men and she despised them.

  She so enjoyed knowing it was she who determined how relationships proceeded – she who decided whether an admirer was to be admitted to her favour or not.

  Already she felt mortified by the way this man had had to help pick her up. Now she was furious that he could have such a demoralising effect on her.

  More
than anything else, she wanted to remount her horse and gallop off, leaving him distraught that she would not spend time with him – and admiring her horsemanship.

  Alas, this was impossible.

  “I had better walk the horse back to the château,” she seethed.

  Something changed in his expression and he seemed to sense her hostility.

  “Miss Montford, please, allow me to switch saddles on our horses so that you can ride mine while I lead yours. The ground is rough and you cannot risk another fall.”

  He spoke with authority, almost as her father would have spoken.

  Fuming, she looked at him more closely.

  Charles Waterford was a bit older than she had first realised. He must be at least thirty. He, too, had lost his hat in his helter-skelter ride to help her and in the sun his dark hair revealed chestnut highlights.

  His features, apart from his remarkable grey eyes, were indeed handsome but not memorable, yet there was a steeliness about his mouth that suggested he was not a man to be taken lightly.

  He raised an ironic eyebrow at her inspection.

  This made Valeria even more furious, but she knew there was no alternative to the course he suggested.

  “You are too kind, sir,” she said woodenly.

  There was a flash of amusement in his eyes and then he began unfastening the girth of her stallion’s saddle.

  She watched him change over the saddles, hating every moment.

  He worked quickly and efficiently.

  Soon her sidesaddle was on his gelding and he stood beside it, holding his hands in a cup for her foot.

  His calm assumption that she had no option but to obey him made Valeria even crosser.

  But she knew that protest was useless.

  So she placed her foot in his hands and allowed him to toss her up into the saddle, glad that her bruised body managed to retain its usual elegant control.

  The gelding started a little, but she took firm hold of the reins and held him steady.

  Charles Waterford watched her for a moment and then seemed satisfied that she could handle the animal.

  “I am afraid we are some way from the château,” she said as lightly as she could manage as he started to lead her horse. “It will be a long walk for you.”