A Rake's Vow (Cynster 2) - Page 31

Her soft-soled slippers made no sound on the runners or stair carpet. A single candle left burning in the front hall threw her shadow back up to the gallery. Patience didn't pause. She flew down the dark corridor to the side door.

It was bolted. She wrestled with the heavy bolts, dragging them back, then pulled open the door. Myst shot out. Patience stepped quickly outside, and shut the door. Then she whirled and started out-into thick fog.

Five impulsive steps from the door, she stopped. Shivering, she swung her cloak over her shoulders, quickly tying the cords at the collar. She glanced back. Only by straining her eyes could she make out the wall of the house, the blank eyes of the downstairs windows, and the darker patch that was the side door.

She looked toward the ruins. There was no sign of the light, but the Spectre, whoever he was, could not have reached the house, even using the light to guide him, not before she'd reached the side door.

In all likelihood, the Spectre was still out there.

Setting her back to the house, Patience took a few cautious steps. The fog grew denser, colder.

Tugging her cloak more tightly about her, she set her teeth and forged on. She tried to imagine she was walking in bright sunshine, tried to see in her mind's eye where she was. Then the first of the tumbled stones dotting the lawn loomed out of the fog, a reassuringly familiar sight.

Dragging in a more confident breath, she continued on, carefully picking her way between the toppled stones.

The fog was densest over the lawn; as she neared the ruins, it thinned, enough for her to make out the major structures, from which she could judge her position.

Cold, damp streamers of thick fog wound their way in and out of the shattered arches. A drifting mist obscured, then revealed, then obscured again. There was no real wind, yet a fine thread of sound seemed to whisper through the ruins, like a distant keening from ages past.

As she stepped onto the lichen-covered flags of the outer ward, Patience felt the eerieness close about her. A denser drift of fog wafted about her; one hand outstretched, she felt her way along a short wall, part of the monks' dorter. It ended abruptly; beyond was a large gap giving onto the flagged corridor leading to the remains of the refectory.

She stepped toward the gap; one slipper slid on crumbling masonry. Stifling a gasp, Patience leapt forward onto the corridor flags.

And collided with a man.

She opened her mouth to scream-a hard hand clamped over her lips. An arm like steel locked about her waist, trapping her against a long, hard frame. Patience relaxed; her panic flowed out of her. There was only one body within ten miles like the one she was pressed against.

Reaching up, she pulled Vane's hand from her lips. She drew breath to speak, opened her lips-

He kissed her.

When he eventually consented to stop, he only lifted his lips a bare fraction from hers. And breathed: "Quiet-sound travels very well in fog."

Patience gathered her wits. And breathed back: "I saw the Spectre-there was a light bobbing about."

"I think it's a lantern, bu

t it's gone or shielded now."

His lips touched hers again, then settled, not cool but warm against hers. The rest of him was warm, too, an oasis of heat in the chilly night. Her hands trapped against his chest, Patience fought an urge to snuggle closer.

When he next lifted his head, she forced herself to ask, her words still no more than a whispered breath: "Do you think he'll come back?"

"Who knows? I thought I'd wait for a while."

He followed up the tantalizing brush of his breath against her lips with a much more satisfying caress.

Patience's head spun. "Maybe I'll wait, too."

"Hmmm."

Some unknown minutes later, while taking a necessary pause for breath, Vane commented: "Did you know your cat's here?"

She hadn't known if Myst had followed her or not. "Where?" Patience looked about.

"On the stone to your left. She can probably see better than us, even in the fog. Keep an eye on her-she'll probably disappear if the Spectre returns."

Keep an eye on her. That was difficult while he was kissing her.

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Cynster Historical
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