Free Whispers at Midnight by Andrea Parnell Page B

shirt open and hanging free of his
breeches, his black hair falling unkempt in his face.
    “I am not,” she said. Though he was right,
of course. She was quite giddy and it had taken great concentration
for her to climb the stairs. Just for a moment she relaxed against
him, enjoying the feel of warm skin against her cheek, inhaling the
faint scent of sandalwood. He seemed to radiate a smoldering heat
that was slowly invading her body. But as she felt a change in him
as well, she looked up, wondering why she was so conscious of his
eyes and the dark sharp brows that rose slowly.
    There was something very compelling about
Ryne, something that excited her like lightning in a storm. But she
did not like it that he had started the strange current racing
through her body or that his eyes bore down on her with the cold,
hard look of blue ice.
    She realized with a start that she had
hardly been aware she was playing a dangerous game. Amanda wrenched
her arm free and hurried down the stairs with much more certainty
than she had climbed them. At the bottom again she shuddered,
feeling a dizzy ache in her head and a flush of heat that would not
leave her skin. She turned immediately to look up at Ryne. The
smile on his face could only have belonged to Satan.

Chapter 3
     
     
    “Wax and wane, look in vain.”
    The batlike shadow of Ezra in flight floated
through the candlelight in the great hall. The bird had his secret
habitats throughout the house and appeared or disappeared with a
whim. He circled overhead once and then perched on the base of the
Turkish King, spreading his wings to display the showy iridescent
color underneath. Hopping restlessly about, he twisted his head in
a peculiar motion that made it appear as if it would snap from his
squat neck. How long had he remembered those strange lines he
quoted?
    Restless now herself, Amanda hesitated a
moment beside the figure of the Turkish King. Even that dour face
carved of wood bore a kinder disposition than Ryne’s had at last
glimpse. Why had he come back? And why had he allowed her to make a
complete fool of herself . . . again? Surely after last night’s
encounter he hadn’t thought he’d be welcome. And what was worse was
that he had made a ruin of her evening with Gardner. How was it
possible for brothers to be as different as Gardner and Ryne? Of
course, they were only half-brothers, but one would think they
would share a commonality of good manners.
    He’d have to leave. He bothered her, gave
her a queer niggling feeling deep inside. There was no question of
his staying in the house, and yet she dreaded the ordeal of asking
him to go. It seemed, in all conscience, like turning someone out
of his own home.
    With a hand pressed to her aching temple,
she moved haltingly down the long brick passageway that connected
the kitchen to the house. The rows of windows were open and the
cooling night breeze drifted freely through, carrying a scent of
rosemary and sage. But for the passageway, the kitchen was a
separate house set to the side of the main building. Across the way
was a laundry, and near that a smokehouse. The space between was
used for growing flowers and both the vegetables and herbs used in
the kitchen. Had she not felt so miserable, Amanda could have
enjoyed the serenity of the evening.
    As it was, she moaned lightly as she pushed
open the door of the kitchen and peered within. Her mind had become
a muddle of confused thoughts, but not one among them strong enough
to lead her to some purpose. She wanted tea, hot and strong, to
temper the wine that had her head drumming like a child’s toy.
    A lamp burned on a kitchen shelf, sending a
sphere of faint light over the room. Amanda blinked. After the
soothing darkness in the passageway her eyes objected to even those
few pale rays. She was not fond of wine or strong drink of any
sort. Somehow with Gardner she had gotten caught up in a festive
mood, and when he had ordered a good bottle of Madeira, it had
seemed