Free Dark Journey by Anne Stuart

up the steep path. She wanted to run, and yet she knew she didn't dare. Running across a relatively level surface last night had almost killed her.
    Even making her way slowly up the steep hillside would put untold strain on her heart.
    She turned a corner, which put her out of Jeremy's view, and quickened her pace. She waited for the breath to catch in her chest, waited for the dull, omnipresent pain to sharpen. But she could feel no pain. The air was pumping through her lungs, the blood pumping through her heart, as if they weren't the damaged organs she knew them to be.
    She moved faster. The wind rippled through the trees, tossing her long hair behind her, and she could feel the dampness of autumn on the tail of the breeze. Faster still, the energy spiking through her, soaring, faster and faster, until she was running, freely, effortlessly, up the steepest part of the incline, and a laugh rippled out of her throat, dancing over the countryside.
    She saw him then, standing at the edge of the clearing, watching her. Waiting for her, as the restless light reflected off his dark glasses. He waited for her, alone, Cynthia nowhere in sight.
    She came to a halt a few feet away from him. She was out of breath, flushed, and feeling dangerous herself. She thought of her stepbrother, with his threats and warnings. She thought of her shortened life, and she looked up at the man who stood there, waiting for her.
    Again she felt that odd shiver of memory. She knew him. But she couldn't remember where or when she'd seen him before. He was a part of her life, a part of her, and yet she couldn't say how.
    She knew only one thing about him. There was nothing to be afraid of. He wouldn't harm her.
    Whether that extended to everyone, she didn't know. But the man in black, standing there in the storm-tossed shadows, would never hurt her.
    "Do you believe in love at first sight?" she asked him, her breath caught in a small gasp.
    "You might as well ask whether I believe in love at all," he countered softly.
    "Do you?"
    "I'm not sure. Perhaps for some creatures. In some circumstances. If one is very lucky."
    "Are you one of the lucky ones?"
    "No," he said gently. "And neither are you."
    It was like a slap across the face. She stared at him for a long moment and saw the trace of Cynthia's coral lipstick on the side of his neck. The sudden clenching pain in her chest had nothing to do with her damaged heart and everything to do with her soul.
    "True enough," she said brightly, after a moment. "In the meantime, I'd better check on my father." She moved past him, concentrating on maintaining a calm grace.
    He reached out a hand to stop her, to touch her, but she managed to avoid him. He didn't pursue the effort, just followed her at a secure distance. "Are you worried he might have died while you went for your walk?"
    She paused at the French doors that led in from the rough-hewn deck. "No," she said, staring at her reflection in his sunglasses. "No one's going to die for the time being. Are they?"
    "How would I know?" he said at last, breaking the silence.
    "How stupid of me," she murmured. "You wouldn't have anything to do with it, would you?"
    His smile was pale, cool, bewilderingly gentle. "Not at the moment," he said. He put his hand on her elbow and the force of the current they created shot between them.
    "Who are you?" she whispered, unable to move.
    He leaned closer, and she lifted her face to his, wanting his mouth again. Needing it.
    "There you are, Miss Laura." Mrs. Hawkins's voice shattered the faint, dreamy mood as she appeared at the end of the hallway, an old dish towel in one hand. "Your father's been asking for you. Quite agitated, he is. Maria said to find you as quick as can be."
    "Is he going?"
    "Not so's I could tell. He wants to talk to you, though, and I don't think getting worked up will do him any good. You go on in, and I'll get Alex here a cup of coffee. There never was a Frenchman who could resist a good cup of