Free Samantha James by The Seduction of an Unknown Lady

heavy. Wooden. She had no desire—no motivation—to move, but she knew she must.
    Nor did he make any move to release her. Instead his arms tightened around her…or did she only imagine it?
    “You may as well stay. I’ve several empty bedrooms upstairs.”
    The sound she made was half-strangled.
    He arched a brow. “I was not suggesting that you share mine,” he said rather coolly.
    He’d given no indication that was what he meant or that he harbored any sort of designs on her. Of course there was his roguish behavior in the shop the other day. But even then—
    Fionna pushed herself upright, suddenly wide-awake and incredulous that he would even suggest such a thing. She was too stunned to be indignant.
    “Good heavens,” she said faintly. “I cannot stay here!” She dropped the blanket. “I must go home. Now. Please, my mantle. My gloves.”
    “Come now. My staff is asleep. Or do you have a maid or a housekeeper who will miss—”
    “A girl who comes in several mornings a week. Tomorrow morning, in fact,” she stressed.
    He sighed. “Then I suppose we can have you safely home before anyone notices, and with no one the wiser.”
    Her hair had come undone; she could feel it half-falling down her back. Grabbing a pin, she tried to twist it back up; she succeeded only in stabbing her scalp.
    “Here, let me help you.” It was Aidan whotucked it up in a loose coil and pinned it in place. At the feel of his hands sliding lightly through her hair, a peculiar tightness knotted in the pit of her belly.
    Settling her mantle over her shoulders, Fionna snatched up her gloves and almost bolted toward the door.
    “Oh, no, Fionna! You won’t be walking home alone.”
    “It’s only just across the street—”
    His drilling stare told her she was going nowhere without him.
    “Almost,” she finished weakly.
    Fionna watched as he procured his greatcoat and shrugged it on. It should have been a simple shift of movement, that rise and fall of his shoulders. And it was, but for the fact that it was more a lithe ripple of muscle.
    Fionna swallowed. She was aware of heat flooding her face, her entire body. Was it any wonder she found the man distracting?
    Lastly, he put on his hat. Dark brows rose. “Ready?”
    Fionna nodded, her cheeks still burning.
    In very short order they were crossing the cobbled street. Fionna hauled in a stinging lungful of air, impatient with her behavior. What the devil was wrong with her? Why, she’d acted the panic-stricken schoolgirl, afraid of being ravished! Which she was not. Neither a schoolgirl, nor indanger of being ravished. Not really. Granted, her knowledge of the earthy side of passion far exceeded actual experience—any experience at all, to be sure. Except, perhaps, for her rather erotic imaginings with Raven and Rowan. And, of course, hidden deep in the very bowels of her desk…
    Her copy of Vatsyayana’s Kama Sutra.

Chapter Five
    A dark, forbidding place are the moors. Evil abounds in the dark of night.
    A superstitious lot, the people of the moors. It is said the demon can change his appearance at whim or will, whether it be beast or foul or ghost.
    And I knew then. It could be anyone. No matter whom one saw, it might well be the face of death.
    The face of a demon.
    Demon of Dartmoor, F.J. Sparrow
    It was Sunday. The one day that belonged to herself. She did not have Glynis in. And perhaps it wasn’t totally to herself, for she never missed visiting her mother in the late morning. But she felt as if it were.
    She sat upstairs in the parlor, gazing outsidefrom her desk. The day was cloudy. Now and again a brisk wind swirled the branches of the tree just outside her bedroom. A fire burned in the fireplace, casting out its warmth. Snow sifted from the scuttling clouds.
    She scooped a bit more coal onto the fire. But all at once her mind was filled with the fading embers of another fire…
    Two days had passed since Aidan had walked her home; rather, two nights.
    Memory