Charon's Crossing

But if she was, if she'd conjured up this visitor, she'd certainly done one hell of a job. Lord, but he was gorgeous!

She had never seen eyes that color. They were like the sea, green and dark and stormy. And his hair. What color was it? Not brown. Not blond. It was gold. Burnished gold, and so thick and silken-looking she longed to reach up and touch it.

The rest of him suited that hair and those eyes. Her gaze skimmed over his face, taking in the straight, proud nose, the square, cleft jaw, the firm but sensual mouth. There was a little scar angling just above his right eyebrow. It suited him, as did the theatrical outfit. Not that it looked theatrical. It just made him look incredibly masculine. And just a little dangerous.

What was that poem she'd read, years and years ago? Something about a highwayman riding a ribbon of moonlight through the darkness...

"Are you done examining me, Cat?"

His voice was cold and harsh but there was something more in it. Pain? Could that be what she heard?

His hands tightened on her shoulders. "Did you expect to see the visible wounds of your betrayal? They are healed, at least to the naked eye."

"I don't know what you're—"

"Don't lie to me, damn you! It's too late for that."

Kathryn licked her lips. "Look, I don't know what's going on here. And I definitely don't know you. Maybe..." She bit back the rush of hysterical laughter rising in her throat. "Maybe you're in the wrong dream." She yelped as his hands tightened on her. "Hey! You're hurting me!"

"I want answers, Catherine, and I want them now."

"And I," she said, wrenching out of his grasp, "want you out of here!"

Matthew gave a bark of harsh laughter.

"Aye, indeed you must. But you cannot get rid of me so easily. Not this time."

"And you can't bully me," she snapped, her chin rising in defiance. "Not even in a dream."

"I can do with you as I damn well please."

"Listen, mister, either you get out of here this minute or I'll—I'll—"

"You'll what?" He caught hold of her again, his hands sweeping into the dark spill of her hair. "What can you possibly do to me that you haven't already done?"

Kathryn's heart began to race as she stared up into that hard, handsome face.

He isn't real, she told herself frantically. The feel of his hands on her might seem real. His fury might seem real, too. But she had made him up... and she could just as easily unmake him.

"Go away," she said, fighting to keep her voice; steady.

Matthew laughed. "I will, when it suits me."

"You will go when it suits me. I made you up. You're... you're a creature out of my imagination."

"A creature, am I?" His eyes darkened. "Is that how you think of me?"

"Yes. No. Dammit, you're twisting my words! All I'm saying is that you aren't really here."

His smile made her breath catch.

"Aren't I?" he said, and before she could struggle or stop him, he bent his head and kissed her.

It was a kiss that branded her with fire; she could feel it sweep like molten lava from his lips to hers.

Kathryn's hands lifted. She balled them into fists but he caught her wrists in one hand and held them against his chest while he drew her closer into his arms. Her head tilted back as his lips moved over hers, urging her to surrender.

She would never do that...