They covered the ground quickly.

They closed on the harbor, and the scent of the ocean sharpened. As always, Sunny breathed the aroma. The scent was reassuring, taking her back to the times she spent here with her grandma, Hanna, who took her down to see the sea. Yet it was different. Puzzled, and feeling somehow out of step, Sunny could only account for it by continuing to assume it a vivid dream.

The ground they walked along was a dirt track, scored with deep tracks, like carts had been driven here. As they approached the town itself, she noticed it was less populated. Gulls wheeled overhead, their distinctive cries anchoring her.

Then a great rumbling sounded behind them and a voice called out in warning. Cullen pulled her in against his side swiftly.

Sunny turned, just as a carriage and horses trundled past. As it did, it threw up a load of mud, drenching her pink slippers.

“Oh no,” she said, staring down at them.

A second later, she stared in disbelief at the coachman on top the vehicle, who’d shouted the warning. He wore a triangular shaped hat and a cloak that flew up either side of him as he barked instructions at the horses, bringing them up quickly at the edge of the town.

The old-fashioned vehicle pulled off the track and into a stable yard. Cullen hurried her along, but she peered in as they passed. In her world, the courtyard was known as the Old Stable Yard, but served as a novelty shopping arcade, with cutie seashell stands and traders who sold handmade knick knacks, wind chimes, and surf gear.

The coachman secured the horses.

There was no sign of the shops.

As the streets grew more narrow so they grew busier, with farmers driving sheep and goats alongside them.

“Curses,” Cullen muttered. “It’s market day.”

Sure enough in the market square, traders’ arts displayed wares, drawing clusters of people. The level of noise startled her. A cart chock full of baskets of chickens stood nearby. They made a cacophony of squawking. Dogs barked at the livestock, who were making all manner of noise. Sunny stared, fascinated by the old-fashioned scenes. It was like walking into a movie set. The whole experience was surreal but thrilling. Magical, she realized.

Magical? The word ran back and forth in her thoughts. She recalled stories her grandmother told her of Cornish magic, and things Celeste said the day before when she’d chatted with her and Willow. They’d mentioned Cullen. That was where she’d heard his name before. They’d joked about Sunny finding him, and said stuff about her cottage—almost as if they were predicting this. She’d have to quiz them about it when she got back. Assuming she did get back. As the thought occurred to her, Sunny gulped down her reaction.

Cullen cut a path through the crowd, standing a good head higher than the tallest of those they passed. Many of those greeted him, and then stared at her with curious expressions, blatantly peering at her as if she were a curiosity, which Sunny supposed she was to them.

By her side, Cullen was making observations on the chaos of the market. “I do not recall market day being as busy as this.”

He leaned in and whispered to Sunny conspiratorially, linking her arm. “Ignore the stares, I wager they have guessed you are not my stable boy.”

“I bet that’s not all they’re thinking.”

Cullen nodded. “You’re astute, lass.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Not while you are with me. Stay close.”

The shared confidence bonded them somewhat and as they wended their way through the busy market, Cullen scanned the crowd watchfully, tucking her in against his side, his cloak all but covering her too.

“Cullen Thaine, Sire,” a voice boomed out. “I heard you had departed Cornwall.” The merchant swept a low bow when he saw them approach. “I have the finest silks and woolens for your perusal today.” He gestured to the selection of garments and samples laid out on a trestle table.

Cullen nodded at the trader and went to pass by.

The trader stepped out quite brazenly, blocking their path.

“Mister Drake,” Cullen muttered in response, and went to push past him.

The man didn’t budge, and Sunny saw his scrutiny was focused totally on her. Stumbling on the cobbles, she drew to a halt.

He looked her up and down then reached out and tugged on her hair. It unraveled from where she’d tied it back.

She jerked free.

“Hold tight to me,” Cullen advised.

Tags: Saskia Walker Paranormal
Source: readsnovelonline.net