Free Move Heaven and Earth by Christina Dodd Page A

liaison with nothing concealed. He chased her tongue until he found it, then sucked on it until she obeyed his directive and penetrated his mouth. Until everything was Rand, filling her every sense and blotting out past and future.
    “Lord Rand. Miss Sylvan. That is enough!”
    Someone shook Sylvan’s shoulder, and Betty’s stern voice commanded, “Lord Rand, let her go. Let her go now . Jasper, make him let her go!”
    Sylvan opened her eyes and looked up at Rand.
    His blue eyes seemed unfocused, but at the sight of her, they sharpened. “By Jove,” he said, “I think we found something. Betty, you came back too soon, but you can stop nagging, I’m through.” He brushed his thumb one last time across her nipple. “For the moment.”
    Sitting up, Sylvan glanced at the scandalized Betty and the wooden-faced Jasper. Then she tied her bodice bow. She looked at Rand again, and with shaking fingers, tied a double knot.
    “You can’t erase what we did.”
    Rand’s dark voice caressed her, and she put another knot in the tie.
    “I think it proved something to both of us.”
    Her gaze dropped to his lap, then she pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. She’d never been so close to a man in his condition, but he didn’t appear to be suffering.
    He murmured, “Yes, it certainly proved you heal the sick.”
    His air of possession infuriated her, and without thought she snapped, “Heal the sick, not raise the dead.”
    Rand threw back his head and roared with laughter, but Betty sounded shocked. “Miss Sylvan, that was cruel.”
    “She’s not cruel, Betty.” Rand leaned forward and incited Sylvan. “She’s frightened.”
    “You don’t frighten me.”
    “I ought to.”
    The query hovered on the tip of her tongue. Why? Why should he frighten her? But she knew she wouldn’t like the answer, and whirled to escape.
    He let her get to the door. He let her have that firsttaste of escape, then, as if she’d asked, he called, “Because you excite me, and I excite you.”
    Sylvan wanted to curse him with the language she’d heard on the battlefield. She wanted to damn him to hell and back, but her early training prevented her, and she said only, “You are an odious creature!”
    Long after her footfalls had faded, he stared at the doorway where she had stood.
    “Lord Rand?” Wearing a sly grin, Jasper waited to prepare him for bed. “She’s just like everyone said, isn’t she?”
    Reluctantly, Rand transferred his regard to Jasper. “How’s that?”
    “She’s an easy rider.”
    Still groggy with desire, Rand repeated, “Easy?”
    Jasper came a little closer and companionably nudged Rand in the ribs. “She climbed right on that bed without a complaint and made herself at home.”
    Comprehension flashed through Rand, and he grabbed Jasper by the shirt close to the throat and dragged him until they were face-to-face. “Don’t you ever say that again. Don’t you ever tell anybody what happened here. Unless you want to go back to your father’s farm, you’ll forget what you saw and treat Miss Sylvan with respect. Understand?”
    Eyes bulging from lack of air, Jasper nodded, and Rand knocked him aside. Jasper stumbled backward and landed on his rump. But Rand couldn’t stay angry, not with the triumph of his discovery, and he said, “The rumors about Hibbert were true.”

4
    The dead were calling .
    “Please, Sylvan, help me, Sylvan.”
    The odor of rot clogged her nostrils as first one corpse, then another grabbed at her. Their fingers, dank and pale, curled onto her skirt, her arm, her neck. She could hear their nails scratching, dry as gorse in winter.
    “Help me. I’m too young.”
    They dragged her down, beseeching her aid. The edge of the grave crumbled beneath her feet as she fought for purchase. Mold stained her skin. Dirt rained down.
    “Not yet. I can’t be dead yet.”
    One by one their specters sucked the air from her lungs.
    “Help me.”
    She struggled, tasting the too-familiar