Read Online Never Sleep With Strangers by Heather Graham - Free Book Online

hardened instantly, a streak of desire flashing through him. He looked around at the ghoulish setting, amazed, somewhat aghast, and all the more excited because of it.
    â€œSomeone could come. Look where we are….”
    They seemed to be staring at him. Headsmen in their black hoods, murderers, executioners, rogues. Joan of Arc, so saintly on her cross.
    She laughed softly, and the sound washed over his senses. He groaned and slipped down with her, and within seconds they were sprawled out on the cold floor. She was as naked as a jaybird as purple light bathed them. She was insatiable, rising above him, crying out. He tried to hush her, but she laughed, and when they were both spent, she lay at his side and looked up at the faces surrounding them. “It was fun, like an orgy,” she teased.
    â€œYou worry me.”
    â€œCome on. It was as if they were all watching. It was an incredible turn-on.”
    He hesitated. “You liked to watch…her,” he said, suddenly realizing the truth of his own words.
    She shrugged. “So? That was a turn-on, too.”
    â€œBut this is dangerous, meeting here, like this,” he told her. “Everything we do now is dangerous. The days to come are dangerous. We don’t know what people know, what they saw, what they might have suspected….”
    â€œWe’ll be careful,” she whispered. “We’ll be okay. But I have to be with you….”
    He nodded slightly.
    She knew how to move him, how to make him need her. Because he loved her, of course.
    He closed his eyes and opened them, then started.
    She was looking at him. Lady Ariana Stuart was turned his way, and she was looking at him with her huge, wide, beautiful blue eyes.
    She was watching.
    He could feel her eyes. Looking at him, seeing him. Watching…
    It was a turn-on.
    And yet dangerous.
    He was both aroused and afraid.
    It was as if she knew….
    Â 
    She didn’t want Jon Stuart; she’d told herself that time and time again. She wasn’t absurdly, naively young anymore; she was older now, wiser. But in her dreams, she was lying in her bed, naked, waiting, wanting….
    Because he was there. Tall, towering, dressed in black. Standing over her…
    It was Jon.
    It wasn’t. The tall figure was surrounded by fog and changed with each slight flutter of a purple-gray breeze.
    It was a torturer, intent upon her agony and destruction, and she was caught, tied, unable to move, to escape, because ropes bound her tightly, and all she could do was look up into the eyes of death with a silent, wax-cast scream….
    She awoke with a start, shaking, drenched in sweat. She sat up wildly, looking around.
    Her room was empty. The fire burned low; moonlight filtered in.
    She could see plainly that she was alone, entirely alone.
    And yet it seemed…
    There was a presence, a scent, a feeling, something in the air. A feeling she couldn’t shake that someone had been there. Jon? Or Brett? Or an artist’s rendering of a medieval torturer in wax?
    â€œToo much time in the dungeon,” she told herself softly. But her unease persisted.
    She leaped up. The bolt was still secure. She’d been dreaming, and she was alone.
    Shaking, she curled back into bed and tried to sleep again. But the moon began to set, and soon daylight was filtering in.
    She sat up again. “Oh, the hell with this!” she groaned aloud.
    So she rose and showered and was the first one downstairs for the six o’clock coffee.
    But not even coffee and sunlight could dispel the strange feeling that she hadn’t been alone….
    Someone had been with her in her locked and bolted room.

5
    S abrina had a pounding headache and felt so tired and wretched that she could barely sit up.
    So naturally the first person into the great hall for breakfast was Susan Sharp.
    â€œGood morning! Nice to see you up!” Susan said with a cheerfulness that was doubly irritating.