Free The Seductive Impostor by Janet Chapman Page A

couldn’t be here. Not in Sub Rosa. And not at his mercy. She was the daughter of the man who had murdered his great-uncle. She was also the woman who had literally brought him to his knees last night.
    She had to get out of there. Now. Even if it meant dragging herself home through the fires of pain.
    â€œDon’t even think it,” he said softly, his eyes sparkling with challenge.
    Rachel realized he’d read her panic and her need to escape. She broke off her stare and looked down at the blankets. “You can’t keep me here,” she said, her voice sounding firm to her, now that she wasn’t looking at him.
    â€œWho’s going to stop me?”
    She snapped her head back up. He was standing with his feet spread and his arms crossed over his chest and a lazy, indolent look on his face. The man was no more worried about kidnapping her than he was about the sun falling out of the sky.
    Rachel stared at him, seeing him clearly for the first time in full light, without drugs fogging her brain. Holy Mother Mary. Keenan Oakes could be a marauding Viking who conquered all he could see, for all his modern-day trappings. He had to stand six-foot-three if he stood an inch. His black hair was just as unruly up close as it had been in his picture. His face hadn’t seen a razor in several days, and still the soft dark stubble did nothing to ease the sharp planes of his face.
    He wore a tattered gray sweatshirt that pulled against his massive chest and well-worn jeans that hugged a trim waist and muscled thighs. Rachel wondered dizzily if Keenan Oakes had to turn sideways to walk through most doorways.
    She lifted her chin. “I’m going to call the sheriff if you don’t let me go,” she told him, squaring her shoulders and trying to puff herself up to whatever threatening size she could.
    The corner of his mouth lifted. “The phones aren’t working. They won’t be on until Friday.”
    Rachel glared at him. It was Tuesday. Or was it Wednesday?
    â€œThen you can just have one of your brutes take me home,” she countered, keeping her chin high, stiffening it so it wouldn’t quiver.
    He slowly shook his head as he unfolded his arms and stepped back to the bed. Rachel pressed herself against the pillows. But she couldn’t avoid him when he reached out and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.
    â€œTell me what you were doing in my library, and I’ll take you home,” he said, his voice a whisper of determination.
    â€œI…I wasn’t in your library,” she said hoarsely.
    He tightened his grip, ever so slightly. “I’ll forget what happened if you just tell me what you were doing there.”
    Rachel barely stifled a snort. “No man ever forgets something like that,” she foolishly blurted out without thinking.
    His eyes narrowed.
    â€œI’m not saying I attacked you,” she rushed to clarify, pulling her chin free and lifting it again. “But if I had, then you’re not likely to just forget it.”
    He smiled. “What sort of transgression are we talking about, Miss Foster? I don’t remember mentioning the nature of your assault.”
    Dammit. He had told her, hadn’t he?
    â€œI-I’m assuming it was nasty,” she whispered, trying to sink back into the pillows as he moved even closer. “Since you’re so big, and I’m just a woman, and I…”
    Her voice trailed off the moment his lips touched hers.
    And just like her words, her ability to think vanished at the contact.
    Oh, God. Oh, God. The man’s mouth was not the least bit hard. His lips were soft, unbelievably warm, and so damn sensual, Rachel felt a tingle all the way down to her toes.
    He used his tongue to trace her lips while he claimed them, and moved his hand to the back of her head, cupping her gently but firmly, not allowing her to escape.
    Dangerous. Lethal. Overwhelming.
    Those words kept