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Read Online Gideon, Robin - Desire of the Phantom [Ecstasy in the Old West] (Siren Publishing Classic) by Robin Gideon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robin Gideon
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was, beyond doubt, a most enigmatic man. He’d opened the safe in Jonathon Darwell’s bedroom quickly, with out knowing the combination, he’d returned a revolver to her holster without her being aware of it, and he’d kissed her and made her enjoy it and made her want more.
“I’ll go with you,” Pamela heard herself say.
“All the way?” Phantom asked, reaching out to take Pamela’s hand in his own, his fingers curling around hers.
Pamela nodded, quite certain she was getting herself into something she couldn’t back out of, but she knew a strange sense of freedom at having someone else make the decisions for her.
* * * *
Pamela was surprised at Phantom’s ingenuousness choice of an escape route. Holding her hand, he led her along the roof to the rear of the mansion and there, where the servants’ quarters were, he slipped them both down from one balcony to the next until they were on the ground.
“All the servants are working,” Phantom observed, “so this whole area of the mansion is completely deserted.”
“How did you know this side of the mansion contains only servants’ quarters?” Pamela asked, kneeling on the ground beside Phantom to search the shadows for guards that might still be around.
When he did not reply, she did not press the point. There was only so much information Phantom would allow her, she decided, and it would be in her best interests not to push him beyond that limit.
“Here, put this on,” Phantom said, taking off his black Stetson and handing it to Pamela. “Tuck your hair up inside. You’ve got beautiful hair, but it shines in the moonlight like a beacon.”
Pamela smiled, despite her fear, now that she was on the ground. The voices of the security guards and of the guests at the celebration in the ballroom were clearly audible.
He thought she had beautiful hair? Pamela wasn’t certain how she should respond to the statement, so she said nothing at all. She wanted to make a comment, but she wasn’t nearly as confident in her words at Phantom, and she didn’t want to say something that would make her appear as naive as she felt.
As she tucked her long blonde tresses up beneath the Stetson’s headband, she looked at Phantom. His hair was jet black, perfectly parted on the left side, not overly long. Though he was once again in shadow—wasn’t he al ways?—it seemed to her that his haircut was an excellent one. Did that mean he was a man of wealth? Poor men, she had noted, tended to have poor grooming habits, and the Midnight Phantom was impeccably groomed.
Everything about the Midnight Phantom intrigued her.
“Come on, and stay low,” he instructed, once Pamela had his hat in place.
This time Pamela reached out for his hand. For an instant, they stood motionless in the moonlight, looking into each other’s eyes, their fingers laced together, their hearts rac ing with excitement.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “I’ll get you out of this.”
“I won’t be afraid if you hold my hand,” Pamela said, with significantly more honesty than she had intended.
She immediately wished she hadn’t said a word. The last thing in the world the arrogant Phantom needed was someone else having confidence in his abilities—and let ting him know it.
They moved away from the mansion, racing across the lawn until they reached the high surrounding wall. Here, at the rear of the estate where security was most likely to be breached, the wall was almost twice as high as it was on the street side. Pamela’s heart sank. How in the world could she scale such a high wall? She doubted that even Phantom could.
But instead of stopping at the wall, he banked sharply left, following the wall to the livery stable. Pamela’s heart was pounding and her mouth felt bone dry as they pressed their backs to the livery’s side wall and listened to the conversations of the hired men within.
She could hear laughing and arguing. The coachmen of the wealthy guests at the
“I’ll go with you,” Pamela heard herself say.
“All the way?” Phantom asked, reaching out to take Pamela’s hand in his own, his fingers curling around hers.
Pamela nodded, quite certain she was getting herself into something she couldn’t back out of, but she knew a strange sense of freedom at having someone else make the decisions for her.
* * * *
Pamela was surprised at Phantom’s ingenuousness choice of an escape route. Holding her hand, he led her along the roof to the rear of the mansion and there, where the servants’ quarters were, he slipped them both down from one balcony to the next until they were on the ground.
“All the servants are working,” Phantom observed, “so this whole area of the mansion is completely deserted.”
“How did you know this side of the mansion contains only servants’ quarters?” Pamela asked, kneeling on the ground beside Phantom to search the shadows for guards that might still be around.
When he did not reply, she did not press the point. There was only so much information Phantom would allow her, she decided, and it would be in her best interests not to push him beyond that limit.
“Here, put this on,” Phantom said, taking off his black Stetson and handing it to Pamela. “Tuck your hair up inside. You’ve got beautiful hair, but it shines in the moonlight like a beacon.”
Pamela smiled, despite her fear, now that she was on the ground. The voices of the security guards and of the guests at the celebration in the ballroom were clearly audible.
He thought she had beautiful hair? Pamela wasn’t certain how she should respond to the statement, so she said nothing at all. She wanted to make a comment, but she wasn’t nearly as confident in her words at Phantom, and she didn’t want to say something that would make her appear as naive as she felt.
As she tucked her long blonde tresses up beneath the Stetson’s headband, she looked at Phantom. His hair was jet black, perfectly parted on the left side, not overly long. Though he was once again in shadow—wasn’t he al ways?—it seemed to her that his haircut was an excellent one. Did that mean he was a man of wealth? Poor men, she had noted, tended to have poor grooming habits, and the Midnight Phantom was impeccably groomed.
Everything about the Midnight Phantom intrigued her.
“Come on, and stay low,” he instructed, once Pamela had his hat in place.
This time Pamela reached out for his hand. For an instant, they stood motionless in the moonlight, looking into each other’s eyes, their fingers laced together, their hearts rac ing with excitement.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “I’ll get you out of this.”
“I won’t be afraid if you hold my hand,” Pamela said, with significantly more honesty than she had intended.
She immediately wished she hadn’t said a word. The last thing in the world the arrogant Phantom needed was someone else having confidence in his abilities—and let ting him know it.
They moved away from the mansion, racing across the lawn until they reached the high surrounding wall. Here, at the rear of the estate where security was most likely to be breached, the wall was almost twice as high as it was on the street side. Pamela’s heart sank. How in the world could she scale such a high wall? She doubted that even Phantom could.
But instead of stopping at the wall, he banked sharply left, following the wall to the livery stable. Pamela’s heart was pounding and her mouth felt bone dry as they pressed their backs to the livery’s side wall and listened to the conversations of the hired men within.
She could hear laughing and arguing. The coachmen of the wealthy guests at the
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