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The House of Tarot — Rachel Cosgrove Payes
Death had a home at Fanecliff.
The blood-red brick walls, the black tangled ivy, the sea wind whipping the house into a torment - there was no light at Fanecliff, no joy. When Bart Fane, master of the manor, died suddenly and violently, his widow Amanda thought she would be free once again. Their marriage had been a barren one, and Amanda had fallen in love with another man. But in a final act of cruelty, Bart had left her Fanecliff, a grim inheritance she would have to live with for another year.
Would she allow herself to be tied to a grave with chains of gold? She would forfeit her inheritance, it didn't matter, all she wanted was her freedom and her love. But the forces of Tarot forbade her happiness. The cards were tossed over and over, and again and again the grinning white skull appeared, calling Amanda to come peacefully and swiftly into the night.
The blood-red brick walls, the black tangled ivy, the sea wind whipping the house into a torment - there was no light at Fanecliff, no joy. When Bart Fane, master of the manor, died suddenly and violently, his widow Amanda thought she would be free once again. Their marriage had been a barren one, and Amanda had fallen in love with another man. But in a final act of cruelty, Bart had left her Fanecliff, a grim inheritance she would have to live with for another year.
Would she allow herself to be tied to a grave with chains of gold? She would forfeit her inheritance, it didn't matter, all she wanted was her freedom and her love. But the forces of Tarot forbade her happiness. The cards were tossed over and over, and again and again the grinning white skull appeared, calling Amanda to come peacefully and swiftly into the night.