An Irresistible Impulse Read Free

who opened the door by Abby’s side appreciated her enthusiasm. When he grinned, she knew she had an ally. “Nice, isn’t it? And southern Vermont’s best-kept secret to boot!”
    Taking the hand he offered, Abby stepped from the van to admire better her surroundings. “Is it a public place? I mean, can anyone stay here?”
    “Usually…yes,” he answered, lending a hand to the older woman before turning toward the house. “Now…no.” There was a certain finality to his tone, a chill reminder of their purpose. Anxious to hear whatever he might say, Abby kept pace with him on the broad flagstone path, her slim-heeled pumps tapping a rhythmic cadence, her full skirt swirling just below her knees. She was unaware that the driver of the van had unobtrusivelytaken up position behind Louise and Tom and now followed watchfully.
    “One of the reasons this inn was chosen for you folks,” the first officer went on, “is that it is secluded and unknown, so to speak. There’ll be no other guests staying here for the duration of the trial.” Pulling open the large screen door, he stood back. “Hope you’re hungry. Sybil’s a terrific cook.”
    At the moment Abby was indifferent to the enticement offered, for she was suddenly besieged by warring emotions. On the one hand she was thrilled to find herself in the gracious foyer of a sprawling mansion set on acres of land; on the other she felt no freer than a bird in a cage. One part of her felt pure delight at the thought of vacationing at this inn; the other was appalled at that delight, given the sobriety of the occasion. She felt excitement and trepidation, anticipation and apprehension. Hungry?…Not quite.
    “Ah!” came a gentle male voice. “You’re here!” Abby turned to meet her host, a man whose kind expression was in keeping with that voice. “I’m Nicholas Abbott. And welcome to The Inn.”
    Nicholas Abbott extended his hand to each of them in turn. His warmth helped dispel that chill she’d felt moments before. Dressed casually in slacks, an open-necked shirt, and a golfing sweater that buttonedfrom waist to hip, the innkeeper was as gracious as the setting he’d created. He spoke slowly, reassuringly, as if understanding the unsureness his guests had to be feeling.
    “My wife, Sybil, and I hope to make your stay here as comfortable as possible. We’re really a self-contained entity. But if there’s anything you need and can’t find, please feel free to ask either of us…or your trusty guards.” He cast an eye toward a large room branching from the foyer. “Uh-oh. Looks like your trusty guards are hungry.” The men in question stood looking longingly toward the end of the room that was beyond Abby’s view. “Let’s go have lunch,” her host suggested gently. “The others have just begun. I’m sure they won’t mind pausing for further introductions.”
    His words brought home the fact that, if this was the beginning for Abby, there were others for whom it was the third day of sequestration. Curious, she followed Nicholas Abbott toward the adjoining room.
    The two court officers stood aside to let the small troop enter. Abby found herself in an enormous room, the front half of which was comfortably furnished in typically New England parlor style, the rear half of which was an elegant dining room dotted with casually set tables for four, at which were scatterednine other jurors and two additional court officers.
    “Hear ye!” Nicholas made a lively gesture of clapping his hands for attention. It was far from needed. The newcomers had captured every eye in the room the instant they’d entered it. “We’ve got another three to add to the group.” Speaking more softly, he extracted first names from Abby, Louise, and Tom, then went carefully around the room giving similar identifications to each guarded face.
    Abby couldn’t have remembered eleven names in one round if she’d tried. The most she could do was to note a fairly even sexual