HER SWEETEST DOWNFALL (Paranormal Romance / Fantasy Novella) (Forever Girl Series - a Journal) Read Free

she asked, turning toward him. She narrowed her gaze, scrutinizing how this man could have gotten her back into the cabin so quickly.
    “No.” He stepped too close for comfort. “You won’t. You’re thousands of miles away, in Damascus, and you’ve travelled through time and space to get here. Going back is impossible.”
    Damascus? Did he think her so foolish as to believe such a claim? She straightened her shoulders, refusing to back away, refusing to let him see the nerves that tingled in her chest and stomach.
    “Nothing,” Ophelia said, “is impossible.”
    The man smiled, amusement crinkling the lines around his earthy-brown eyes. “Good to hear that, as it will make my job much easier. Please, just sit with me for one hour and listen to what I have to say. After that, I will leave you alone, if you wish.”
    Ophelia huffed. 
    “One ‘our,” she said sharply. “And only as I need ye to explain where I am and ‘ow to make my way back to the forest.”

Damascus, 1808
    With the descent of night came a chill. Ophelia huddled by the fire, a tattered wool blanket pulled tight around her arms. The man, who had introduced himself as ‘Ethan Forrester of Rome’ sat a foot away, his elbows resting on his tucked-up knees.
    “Ye do not truly go by Ethan, do ye?”
    The man chuckled. “Of course I do. You are referring to my origins, I presume. I was born Etán, but became Ethan over time. Forrester was my family’s name; they were British. I, however, hail from an orphanage in Rome.”
    He said it lightly, like being abandoned by one’s own family meant nothing. Ophelia didn’t know how to respond. 
    “Do you know what became of your mother after your father’s passing?” he asked.
    “My mother? What do ye know of my mother?” Ophelia’s inner walls shot back up. How could he possibly know anything about her family?
    Ethan set his deep, maple-brown eyes on her. “They’ve been watching you since your arrival at Lady Karina’s estate.”
    “Who’s been watching me?” The burning on Ophelia’s neck was so intense now that even the pressure of her hand would not ease the pain. 
    “Forgive me,” Ethan said. He reached for a small bowl of red fluid near the fire and scooted closer to her. A small cloth rested in the wooden bowl, one corner stained by the contents. “Let me ease the sting first. Then I will explain.”
    As he kneeled in front of her, the fire casting his shadow over her small frame, her heartbeat quickened. Given his sudden proximity, his shoulders seemed wider, his physique more rugged. Ophelia repressed her urge to touch his arm and instead clasped her hands tightly in her lap. 
    Ethan rested the dish on the ground at her side, and she swallowed, lifting her eyes slowly to meet his gaze. He stared back for a long moment, then cleared his throat. 
    “Do you mind?” he asked, touching the top button of her gown. “I’ll need to treat the welt directly.”
    The gesture was entirely inappropriate, yet with the pain working deeper into her neck, Ophelia found she didn’t want to move—didn’t want to risk the rub of her gown against the burning mark of the serpent.
    The idea of him seeing her exposed in any way stirred unease in her stomach, but when she looked up at him, at his warm, gentle eyes, her worries came undone. She froze, unsure what to do, somehow persuaded by the pain of the serpent’s mark and the man’s close, gentle proximity.
    Finally, she nodded, dropping the wool blanket from her shoulders to the floor, and held her breath as he slowly unbuttoned her gown. His fingers lingered on each button, his hands trembling. His demeanor suggested a gentleness—a concern—but his shallow breaths suggested something more, perhaps an effort to control a more intimate desire.
    Ophelia’s heart raced, and when he reached the button between her breasts, her breath caught in her throat and warmth spread across her chest and up to her ears.
    It was not fear she felt