Margo Maguire Read Free Page B

ineffective in holding back the curls that framed her heart-shaped face. Her lips were as red as Dianthus barbatus, her skin as pale as Lilium, though there was a blush of rose upon her cheeks. Her unusual, deep violet eyes were framed by thick black lashes, her brows drawn into a frown.
    “Is…anything wrong?” she asked with that husky voice.
    Sam cleared his throat and composed himself. And he realized that there had been no hands caressinghis back. “No,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I just… Is there someone who might show me to my room?”
    She was not at all what he’d expected the inn-keeper to be.
    Her eyes flickered away for a second, toward the desk behind him. “Yes, of course. Follow me. Tom will bring your things in a bit.”
    When her eyes met his, Sam had that odd sensation again, of being touched…caressed. It was suddenly shattered when the lights went out.
    “Oh dear!” she said amid the shouts of all those gathered in the main room of the inn. “I must— Will you excuse me?”
    Sam felt her move past him in the dark as pandemonium broke out. Someone struck a match and a hush came over the crowd as light appeared once again. And Sam wondered if this was all there was to the so-called haunting of Ravenwell Cottage.
    He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around in the near dark while Miss Tearwater went about the room lighting all the lamps and sconces again. Sam had to admit that it was certainly a neat trick. He had no doubt that some mechanism had been rigged to cause all the lamps to be extinguished at once.
    And when a man was in the presence of such stunning beauty, Sam guessed he’d be inclined to believe anything she wanted to tell him.
    Luckily, he was wise to her ploy and wouldn’t be falling for it anytime soon. Her good looks were not going to divert him from his purpose.
    Sam picked up his crate just as a portly man in a light linen suit stepped toward the landlady, followedby four other gentlemen. “Miss Tearwater,” he said, “a few of us would like to, er, visit the attic. If you don’t mind. W-where Sir Emmett, uh, disappeared.”
    “Feel free to do so, Mr. Payton,” Miss Tearwater replied. “But mind the stairs. They’re steep. And narrow.” She lit the last gaslight and turned to Sam. “This way, then.”
    Her plain blue gown with its short sleeves and lack of ornamentation set off her feminine form very well. Sam did not doubt that she had deliberately dressed for effect, considering herself a fair distraction from the game.
    It had been a long time since Sam’s full attention had been drawn by a member of the fair sex. But there was no mistake that Miss Tearwater had his regard now, even though she was a charlatan of the worst sort.
    Following her down a narrow hall, Sam welcomed the surge of purely masculine interest—something he thought he’d never feel again. He allowed himself to admire the sway of her hips, the gentle shimmer of her dark hair in the dim light, and knew that this was the extent of the pleasure he would ever enjoy with any woman.
    It left him feeling deprived and powerless, but he averted his eyes and continued on course, climbing a staircase to the second floor. Miss Tearwater took him to a room at the far end of the hall, where she opened the door and stepped inside.
    “The bath is at the end of the corridor. Towels are here.”
    A quick glance told Sam that the room was satisfactory. There was plenty of space, as well as adesk in which to keep his journals and ledgers. It would do very well.
    Without being too obvious, he kept plenty of distance between them when he stepped into the room. “Quite an uproar here tonight.”
    She seemed startled by his statement, then had the good grace to appear abashed. “Well,” she said, “we don’t usually have such strange weather—”
    “I meant the lights. Nice trick.”
    Her hand fluttered at her breast, then fell to her side once again. “Sometimes our ghosts play pranks on