The Knight of Castle Kildare

By Erin Moira O'Hara

Immortalized in time, Sir Caleb abruptly awakens to discover it’s the 21st century, and his beloved castle is now titled to the most desirable maiden he's ever encountered. To vanquish his curse, he must adhere to certain protocols, which will draw forth those willing to kill for his secrets. He’d rather die than face eternity trapped in a painting, yet to end the curse, he will lose the one person he loves above all else.

Kate Manning has always been fascinated by Sir Caleb; a 16th century knight, whose portraits hang in Castle Kildare. As the new owner of the supposedly haunted castle, Kate finds herself irresistibly drawn to a life-size portrait of the Knight, until the unbelievable happens. Now she will do whatever it takes to protect the man of her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin Moira O'Hara
• Release date: Apr 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005318604

Erin Moira O'Hara

Erin Moira O’Hara grew up in the Blue Mountains of Australia, with a garden backing onto native bushland, hidden caves and fabulous lookouts. Weekends were spent exploring and creating secret bases. Her love of reading began as a child, where she became absorbed in a world of intrigue, fantasy and action-packed stories.The moment Erin read her first romance; she was hooked and dreamed of writing her own romantic adventures. She now lives close to Lake Macquarie, the largest saltwater lake in Australia. The family home overlooks bushland and is surrounded by birds and an acre of ever-growing gardens. She shares this paradise with her own hero, three eccentric hens, two spoilt cats and one adorable dog called Murphy-girl.Erin’s writing encompasses everything she loves best—intrigue, suspense, passion and romance.

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my wonderful parents, who raised me with love and encouraged me to dream big and go after what I wanted.

Chapter One

Wind howled through the ramparts, sleet beat relentlessly against the windows and lightning snaked across the black sky. The young gypsy huddled by the stone wall; her knife held ready, unaware she was being observed by the steely-eyed Knight of Castle Kildare.

Kate Manning rolled her eyes, grabbed the mouse and deleted the entire paragraph. You’ve got to stop thinking about him.

Rising, she walked to the window and stared out at the heavy downpour. A smile curved her lips. The wind was howling through the ramparts and sleet was beating against the new windowpanes.

She glanced at the portrait above the fireplace, almost identical to the life-sized painting hanging in the still to be renovated master suite. It depicted a man with a chiseled jaw and grey eyes. His dark hair hung loose, brushing his broad shoulders. A white shirt and embroidered vest covered his torso. He truly was magnificent. He was also the sole reason she’d bought the castle and moved halfway across the world to England. Maybe I am off my rocker. Who in their right mind gives up everything for a man who doesn’t exist?

A light knock sounded, then the library door opened, admitting Miles, a man she guessed to be in his late thirties. She’d discovered him four months ago, dressed as a musketeer, on the floor of the portrait gallery. Approaching cautiously, Kate had rolled him over to find him bleeding from a nasty head wound. He’d looked at her oddly, then promptly sat up, introduced himself as Miles Davenport and informed her it was his duty to guard Sir Caleb’s portraits, until the curse could be broken.

Even though he was as delusional as her grandmother had been before she’d passed away, Kate felt drawn to the strangely dressed man, and as believing in fairytales wasn’t a crime, she’d offered him the position of handyman-gardener. Now recovered, Miles had replaced his frilly white shirt, leather pants, feathered hat and cuffed boots with pressed black plants, plain white shirt and black tie. He hadn’t lifted one hammer or pulled one weed, yet she couldn’t complain. Miles excelled as butler, cook and on occasion, her sounding board. She’d grown quite fond of his idiosyncrasies.

Kate studied Miles as he crossed the room: back rigid, clean-shaven and not a hair out of place. The scar on his forehead was barely noticeable.

Miles placed a small tray on her desk. How’s the story proceeding, Miss Katrina?

It’s not and I’m behind on my deadline.

Miles removed a dainty plate of shortbread biscuits and a mug of hot chocolate from the tray and arranged them on her desk.

Can I be of assistance?

Kate smiled. Since Miles had discovered she wrote fantasy books for children, he’d made a point of reading them all and often offered intriguing suggestions.

"Not really. I’m supposed to be writing the sequel to The Magical Castle, except my muse keeps trying to make me write something else." She watched Miles as he moved about the library, closing curtains, straightening cushions then stoking the fire.

Miles, don’t you ever feel the need to get away? It’s so quiet here in the castle with just me for company. I wouldn’t mind if you want to take off to London or somewhere else for a few days.

He stiffened, replaced the poker, then turned to her. I’ve always found Derbyshire an exceptionally beautiful region and it is an honour to live in this castle and work for—his gaze flicked to the portrait then back to her—you.

Taking another biscuit, Kate looked at the sixteenth-century knight, who Miles insisted on referring to as Sir Caleb. The knight’s mesmerizing eyes stared back at her. Predictably, her tummy fluttered.

She dragged her eyes back to Miles as he added a log to the fire. For someone who usually had no trouble getting information out of people, she was failing miserably with Miles. I need to come at this from a different angle. An idea popped into her brain.

Why didn’t you go with Rupert Sinclair when he sold the castle and moved to his London residence?

I prefer living here. Mr. Sinclair is an exceptionally disagreeable gentleman. Miles faced her, straightening his cuffs. Will there be anything else before I retire for the evening?

Kate shook her head. No, Miles. Goodnight, sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite.

He raised an eyebrow. You will not find bed bugs in this establishment.

It’s a witticism, Miles.

He bowed slightly. A very poor one, Miss Katrina. Goodnight. Retrieving the tray, he left the room.

Kate fought to hide her grin. You are oh so proper, Miles. She picked up her hot chocolate and wandered over to her favourite armchair in front of the fireplace. Taking a seat, she drew up her legs and stared into the flames, her mind again on Miles. When will he divulge what really happened the night I found him? Kate frowned, sipped her drink and stared into the flames. She drew in a tight breath. He did not fall out of that portrait!

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her phone humming. Leaning over the arm of the chair, she scooped it off the ottoman and smiled at the caller ID.

Hello, Sara Turner, story editor extraordinaire. You’re not about to blister my ears about finishing my manuscript, are you?

Hello, Kate Manning, author extraordinaire. No, but how is the manuscript coming?

Kate groaned. It’s not. Since moving into the castle, I’m constantly reminded of a legend my grandmother used to tell me. I can’t think of anything else.

Well, don’t get complacent. You need a few more books under your belt before we pension you off. Sara’s wicked chuckle sounded down the line. Speaking of pensioners, how’s Miles? Does he ever ask after me?

Kate leaned back into her chair and laughed. "No, he doesn’t. It took him weeks to recover from your visit, and he’s probably only five years older than you."

He acts thirty years older. By the way, I’d like to come visit and maybe stay a while.

Oh, Sara, that’s great. When?

As soon as I can get organized. It’s time I moved on, and to do that, I need to get away from my family and ex-husband. I’m looking forward to Miles’ roast pheasant and that dreamy French dessert he makes.

He cooked me spicy mint chops and sautéed vegies for dinner tonight.

Stop. My mouth’s watering just thinking about the man. She laughed heartily. I mean his cooking. Oh, that reminds me. Please don’t put me anywhere but that dreadful chamber. I swear it’s haunted.

For heaven’s sake, it’s not haunted. It was so cold when you were here that I thought you’d appreciate a big fire and the ambience of sleeping in a medieval chamber.

Ambience! Every night I heard strange noises. I’m telling you, there’s a ghost in there.

Sara, the Knight of Castle Kildare is a myth. I’ve been in Winster for months and I haven’t seen him once. Liar, you stare at his face every day.

You’ve given the ghost a name?

No, I’m talking about the legend of the Knight of Castle Kildare. According to my grandmother, around 1570, Queen Elizabeth was on one of her processions through Derbyshire when the horses pulling her carriage bolted. She’d have been killed if it weren’t for the bravery of Caleb, the eldest son of Alexander Sinclair, a wealthy English landowner who built this castle for his Irish wife. As a reward, Good Queen Bess knighted the young man in a private ceremony and presented him with a jewel-encrusted sword, rumoured to be worth a fortune. Then around 1580 the young knight disappeared after confronting a Romani chieftain and his clan.

I see. Well, I think you should move into that medieval chamber.

Kate studied the portrait, her eyes locking with the knight’s. A shiver ran down her spine. But then I’d sleep in the same chamber as his huge portrait. It would be a constant reminder that he’s beyond my reach. What difference would it make? Every day she made a visit to that chamber, just to look at him.

I will move in, when it’s renovated. You saw the castle’s condition when I arrived. I couldn’t get local tradesmen from Winster to do any repairs. At least the previous owner managed to put me on to a contractor from Matlock. George doesn’t believe in ghosts either.

Sara huffed. I did warn you it was a big mistake to buy a castle on the other side of the world, but did you listen? Noooo. And, darling, the locals steer clear of the castle for a reason. There’s a ghost haunting its drafty halls.

There’s no ghost. Kate jumped to her feet. You know what?

What?

I’m going to do it. I’m going to renovate that chamber. It’s just the sort of challenge I need, and a break from writing will do me good.

Well, I suppose a month off won’t hurt. Just don’t tell Miles it was my idea. I’m very fond of his crème brûlée.

You’ve got a deal.

Speaking of Miles, again, has he revealed who attacked him and the portrait?

Kate sighed. No, but whoever bashed Miles and destroyed that portrait should be made accountable. The problem is, when I ask Miles, he clams up. He won’t even tell me why he was dressed so oddly that day. Another shiver ran down her spine, but she refused, absolutely refused to look at the portrait. And she refused to dwell on the fact she’d caught Miles having a conversation, only to discover no one else in the room. No one except… No, don’t look. But she couldn’t help herself.

Sara tutted. I still can’t understand what induced you to take him in. Just because he said he worked for the Sinclair family, doesn’t mean he did. He could be anyone.

Kate closed her eyes. I took Miles in because he had nowhere else to go and he was hurt while trying to protect my property. You know this.

Yes, but there’s more to it and I intend to find out what he’s hiding. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy his cooking.

Kate gave in. Sara needed something to keep her mind off her cheating ex-husband and unsupportive family. If she wanted to focus on Miles and his cooking, then so be it.

Very well, let me know your flight details and stay safe.

You, too, sweetie and don’t let that ghost scare you. Toodles.

Bye, Sara. Kate ended the call and was once again drawn to her sixteenth-century knight. You don’t scare me, Caleb. Not one little bit. A dull thud pulled her attention to the ornate ceiling.

What on earth was that?

She put her mug on the mantle and ran out of the library.