Read Online Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) by Kate Fellowes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Fellowes
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to his room.
I shut the door securely, ramming the lock home and putting a chair under the knob. With the faintest light of dawn beginning to peek through the curtain, I turned back to bed.
Chapter Nine
Mart and I met at the doors of the hotel dining room, joining a few other stragglers for our meal. Our breakfast was a lengthy event, with Mart listening in deep concern to my story about seeing Clark in the forest the day before. I could relate it coherently now, having thought about it ever since waking up.
I kept my eyes on him as I spoke, waiting for any sign of false concern. A blink of the eyes. A glance away. But he just pondered my words, chewing slowly, his eyebrows knitting together as he thought. If I expected him to give me any answers, however, I was mistaken. When I pushed gently, he evaded me.
Those broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Clark’s a different kind of guy. I’d never claim to understand him, Allison.”
I set my fork down with a clatter. “I realize there’s no love lost between the two of you,” I told him, “and if you’re worried that I’ll mention that in my stories, you can relax. The readers of the Rochester Breeze aren’t particularly interested in personality conflicts. They just want a travelogue.”
“It’s not that, honestly,” he began and I held up a hand.
“I don’t expect you to tell me any secrets, Mart, but this one seems to concern me. My room was broken into, perhaps because of that picture I took.”
“And someone pushed you down the steps,” Mart reminded me.
“What? That was an accident.”
I was shocked at the implication in his sentence. Until that instant, I’d made no connection between the two events. They’d been horrible parts of the same day, and this man eating pineapple across from me had been close by for both. Which might or might not be meaningful.
Now, my hand froze around my coffee cup and I leaned over our breakfast plates to ask, “What are you telling me? Do you think that was deliberate? Do you think someone was actually trying to hurt me?”
Mart blew out a long column of air, pushing out his lips and letting his eyes drift to the ceiling. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he said, his voice clearly stating he didn’t believe the sentence. Still without looking at me, he fidgeted with the silverware, moving it around on the tabletop.
The jangling and clanking were too much of a distraction for me. My hand shot out to cover his and halt its movement. When my skin touched his he seemed startled, but his hand went motionless under mine.
I watched his face. Watched the start of a smile edge across his lips. When he looked up, our eyes met, and the message they exchanged suddenly had nothing to do with zoo directors or burglaries or accidents.
Those dark, serious eyes were wide and warm, inviting me in. My gaze dropped to his lips. The top one was thin, the bottom full and luscious. What would those lips feel like on mine? I wondered, flicking my tongue over my own dry lips.
Mart sighed and I blinked, breaking the spell we’d slipped under.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” he repeated, bringing our conversation back to its disturbing topic, “but last night, I was thinking about it. You fell shortly after taking a picture someone didn’t approve of. Now, the steps of the temple aren’t deep, but they’re pretty wide. Even with that crowd, they’re surely wide enough for someone to have gone around you without knocking you over.”
I nodded and withdrew my hand. He had a point and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“So, perhaps your ‘accident’ wasn’t an accident. It could have been — ”
“An attempt to kill me?” My voice came out high-pitched and a little too loud.
“No, not necessarily,” Mart hurried on. “But your camera did suffer in the fall, right? Banged around a bit on the stones?”
I nodded.
“My guess is the camera was the goal. You were just in the way.”
Turning my hands over, I looked at the scratches
I shut the door securely, ramming the lock home and putting a chair under the knob. With the faintest light of dawn beginning to peek through the curtain, I turned back to bed.
Chapter Nine
Mart and I met at the doors of the hotel dining room, joining a few other stragglers for our meal. Our breakfast was a lengthy event, with Mart listening in deep concern to my story about seeing Clark in the forest the day before. I could relate it coherently now, having thought about it ever since waking up.
I kept my eyes on him as I spoke, waiting for any sign of false concern. A blink of the eyes. A glance away. But he just pondered my words, chewing slowly, his eyebrows knitting together as he thought. If I expected him to give me any answers, however, I was mistaken. When I pushed gently, he evaded me.
Those broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Clark’s a different kind of guy. I’d never claim to understand him, Allison.”
I set my fork down with a clatter. “I realize there’s no love lost between the two of you,” I told him, “and if you’re worried that I’ll mention that in my stories, you can relax. The readers of the Rochester Breeze aren’t particularly interested in personality conflicts. They just want a travelogue.”
“It’s not that, honestly,” he began and I held up a hand.
“I don’t expect you to tell me any secrets, Mart, but this one seems to concern me. My room was broken into, perhaps because of that picture I took.”
“And someone pushed you down the steps,” Mart reminded me.
“What? That was an accident.”
I was shocked at the implication in his sentence. Until that instant, I’d made no connection between the two events. They’d been horrible parts of the same day, and this man eating pineapple across from me had been close by for both. Which might or might not be meaningful.
Now, my hand froze around my coffee cup and I leaned over our breakfast plates to ask, “What are you telling me? Do you think that was deliberate? Do you think someone was actually trying to hurt me?”
Mart blew out a long column of air, pushing out his lips and letting his eyes drift to the ceiling. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he said, his voice clearly stating he didn’t believe the sentence. Still without looking at me, he fidgeted with the silverware, moving it around on the tabletop.
The jangling and clanking were too much of a distraction for me. My hand shot out to cover his and halt its movement. When my skin touched his he seemed startled, but his hand went motionless under mine.
I watched his face. Watched the start of a smile edge across his lips. When he looked up, our eyes met, and the message they exchanged suddenly had nothing to do with zoo directors or burglaries or accidents.
Those dark, serious eyes were wide and warm, inviting me in. My gaze dropped to his lips. The top one was thin, the bottom full and luscious. What would those lips feel like on mine? I wondered, flicking my tongue over my own dry lips.
Mart sighed and I blinked, breaking the spell we’d slipped under.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” he repeated, bringing our conversation back to its disturbing topic, “but last night, I was thinking about it. You fell shortly after taking a picture someone didn’t approve of. Now, the steps of the temple aren’t deep, but they’re pretty wide. Even with that crowd, they’re surely wide enough for someone to have gone around you without knocking you over.”
I nodded and withdrew my hand. He had a point and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“So, perhaps your ‘accident’ wasn’t an accident. It could have been — ”
“An attempt to kill me?” My voice came out high-pitched and a little too loud.
“No, not necessarily,” Mart hurried on. “But your camera did suffer in the fall, right? Banged around a bit on the stones?”
I nodded.
“My guess is the camera was the goal. You were just in the way.”
Turning my hands over, I looked at the scratches
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