Free The Burning by Susan Squires Page A

rescuer, the pain in his expression now replaced by heat. That was the only thing she could name it. She was almost burned by it. And she wanted to be burned. She could feel his breath on her face. The air was close in the room. He reached out to touch her. And she didn’t warn him away. She didn’t shrink from his touch. She put her own hand up to cup his cheek, knowing what would happen.
    Nothing happened. No drenching roar of experience. His skin was smooth, hot to the touch. She had never felt another’s flesh like that, slowly, calmly. He pushed her gown from her shoulders. Heat pooled between her legs at his touch. She was burning inside. And then somehow, as it is in dreams, she was naked and he was naked and she was feeling his body all over, touching skin and the curling hair on his chest, and soft nipples that roused themselves under her fingertips. And he leaned down and lifted her head. His lips brushed hers . . .
    God! What was she thinking? She opened her eyes, blinking.
    Light leaked into the room from the outside. Her narrow nursery bed was disheveled, quilts tossed about, a pillow on the floor. The room looked small and ordinary. She stilled her breathing. She had had these kinds of dreams before. It was no doubt a result of the solitary life she led. Or an example of her sinful nature. They could be banished with aforce of will. She steadied her breathing. But had they ever been this intense, this real?
    She got up deliberately and threw back the curtains from the small windows to let light bathe her in reality. She could hardly credit the things she had seen in the forest last night now. What was real was Uncle Thaddeus being carried up to his bedroom, the doctor’s grim pronouncement, her sitting with him through most of the night. The stress had caused her to have disturbing dreams. Hardly unusual.
    Looking out the window, she couldn’t see the sun, but she realized it must be noon at least from the shadows in the garden far below. She pulled on her dressing gown and hurried out into the hall. She must see how her uncle did. She came flying down the stairs and almost bumped smack into Van Helsing. She lurched back before she could touch him.
    “Oh, ho! Cousin, how do you do this morning?”
    “Uh, well . . . well. Thank you, sir,” she said, gasping. She’d almost forgotten him.
    “Erich, please,” he chided her. “Do you breakfast? We could go down together.”
    At close range she saw that he did not clean his teeth properly and hadn’t for a long time. His teeth were stained, his gums lined with soft whitish grit. It made his breath smell. She took a step backward. “No. That is, I must check on my uncle.”
    Van Helsing raised his brows. “I daresay he’s out hunting or some such. He seems to be an early riser.”
    “My uncle has had a heart attack . . . Erich,” she said coldly. “He is not out hunting.”
    “Oh. Well, I don’t suppose he’ll be joining us, then.” Van Helsing saw her shock. Immediately he pulled an expression of utmost sadness across his face like a curtain. “Do you need anything, Cousin? Can I go for a doctor? You can count on me in your hour of need.”
    “No, nothing,” she said tightly. Then her temper got thebest of her. “But you can stay away from the servants, if that wouldn’t be too much to ask.”
    “What?” His look of surprise turned ugly. The fish eyes narrowed and gleamed with malice. It was as though he had removed a mask. Ann took a step back involuntarily.
    She swallowed. She had to follow through for Alice’s sake. “I think you’ve been importuning Alice, and I . . . I won’t have her persecuted.”
    “That slut?” He sneered. “She quite threw herself at me. She started the game.”
    He didn’t even pretend to deny it! “It is a woman’s prerogative to call halt.”
    “She said she liked it rough and then didn’t have the courage to follow through.” Here he leered at her. “When a man is roused, it ain’t so easy to