Dark Journey

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Authors: Anne Stuart
longer."
    "Knowing him, it might be a long wait," Maria muttered under her breath.

    T he dining room was deserted. Laura had lost track of time, and it gave her an odd shock to realize that it was already early afternoon. The remnants of a luncheon still lined the buffet table, and she instinctively went for the carafe of coffee. After all, she'd survived one cup without the slightest ill effects. Any racing of her heart had come from Alex, not caffeine.
    She might as well live dangerously, she thought, pouring herself a cup. She took it with her as she wandered down the hallway in search of her family. She'd left Jeremy down in the woods, but she still had no idea where the others were. Ricky was probably drinking, Justine weeping, and Cynthia? What was Cynthia doing?
    The door to the library was still closed, and Laura paused outside. If she had any sense at all, she would take her coffee up to her room and not even think about what lay on the other side of the door.
    But she'd never been a coward. She didn't bother to knock. She simply turned the handle, pushing the door inward.
    There were no lights on, and the murky sunlight barely infiltrated the shadows. At first she thought the room was empty. And then she saw Cynthia, huddled in a corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her pale face streaked with tears and runny makeup.
    Laura forgot her jealousy. The hot coffee sloshed over her hand as she slammed the mug down on a table. Within seconds she was kneeling on the floor next to Cynthia, pulling her sister-in-law's unresisting body into her arms.
    "What happened, Cynthia?" she murmured.
    The room was warm, almost hot. Cynthia's body felt ice-cold, and she was shaking so hard Laura could barely hold her. Cynthia's teeth were chattering, and her attempts at speech were just a helpless stuttering.
    "Did someone hurt you?" Laura persisted. "Was it Alex?"
    Cynthia let out a small moan, burying her head against Laura's shoulder. A moment later, electric light blazed through the room, and Jeremy stood there, his face in shadows. "I'll take care of her," he said in a long-suffering voice.
    Cynthia jerked, burrowing closer to Laura as if looking for a safe haven, and Laura's arms tightened around her. "Something's happened, Jeremy," Laura said. "Something frightened her."
    "I can imagine what. Now do you believe me when I tell you that man is dangerous?"
    "Don't be ridiculous!" Laura snapped back. "He didn't hurt her."
    Jeremy reached down for his trembling wife. Cynthia tried to resist, but he simply pulled her upward, pushing Laura out of the way. "She'll be all right. I'll take her back to the guest house and get some hot tea into her. She could do with a nap. Don't worry, Cynthia. I'll take care of you."
    Cynthia looked up at her husband of more than ten years, and her expression was one of complete horror. Before Laura could intervene, however, Jeremy had half helped, half dragged her from the room.
    Laura watched them go, feeling helpless, frightened, confused. Nothing was as it had seemed. Not her autocratic father, not the fearless, amoral Cynthia, not the stolid, dependable Jeremy.
    And certainly not the stranger who'd appeared on their mountain just as the rest of the world was shut away from them.
    She slammed her bedroom door behind her, then locked it. She had no idea where Alex was, and she didn't want to know. She locked the French doors that led out to the small balcony their two rooms shared, and then she lay on her bed, huddling under a down comforter. The coldness was permeating the entire house; the lights were dimming, and outside, the storm was increasing in its intensity. It seemed as if the world were about to end. Laura pulled the covers over her head, shuddering, prepared to ride it out.

    P oison was far more dangerous, Jeremy thought calmly as he put the mug of arsenic-laced tea in Cynthia's trembling hands. There would be an autopsy, and there was no way a toxicologist would miss the huge

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