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It would take more than flowers and remorse to make amends. He could taste her anger in the air that he breathed. She wasn’t satisfied. She wanted revenge. He wasn’t forgiven...
The Winter House stands on the western slopes of the Pennines, near Lancaster. Only visible when the surrounding trees have dropped their leaves, it has been abandoned for forty years. Only the shade of Lily Brent, who was murdered there over a century ago, lingers on in the mouldering rooms. When Fynn McColl moves in to restore the house he has more to contend with than dry rot and rising damp. Lily recognises in him a man from her own time; the one she can never forgive. The unfinished business between them will not be ignored, and she has waited so long, feeding her hatred, storing her psychic energy. Her assaults on Fynn, escalating in power at each encounter, finally drive him back to his pagan roots to seek his own resolution, risking his soul, his sanity, and the woman he loves.
The Winter House stands on the western slopes of the Pennines, near Lancaster. Only visible when the surrounding trees have dropped their leaves, it has been abandoned for forty years. Only the shade of Lily Brent, who was murdered there over a century ago, lingers on in the mouldering rooms. When Fynn McColl moves in to restore the house he has more to contend with than dry rot and rising damp. Lily recognises in him a man from her own time; the one she can never forgive. The unfinished business between them will not be ignored, and she has waited so long, feeding her hatred, storing her psychic energy. Her assaults on Fynn, escalating in power at each encounter, finally drive him back to his pagan roots to seek his own resolution, risking his soul, his sanity, and the woman he loves.
