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Someone had broken into the house. She
could see his silhouette outlined in the
moonlight from the window. He stood
perfectly still. Sweat chilled her palms
as she tightened her grip on the poker.
She sprinted forward with a loud war
whoop and brought the metal rod down
toward his head.
Her body slammed into an unmovable
force. Pain shot up her arms and jarred
straight through to her teeth. When she
closed her hands tighter and tried to
move, it was as though she fought
against an unseen opponent.
“Never touch my statue, madam.”
It wasn’t a question, most definitely a
command. Meg opened her mouth and
quickly closed it again. She couldn’t
find her voice, fear paralyzed her
throat. Never touch the statue? She
raced for the wall switch and bathed the
room in bright light. The fireplace
poker fell from her limp fingers to
crash loudly onto the wood floor as she
stared in stunned surprise at the man
before her.
“No need to fear. I won’t hurt you.” He
moved toward her.
Part of her wanted to flee, but she knew
that it would be foolish. He would
follow—of that she was certain. She
reached up to touch the man now standing
directly before her. Meg watched his
gaze roam over her, raking her with his
eyes. His square jaw felt smooth beneath
her palm, his lips warm and soft. He
leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her
lips.
“Welcome to Heron House, my dear.”
Then he vanished beneath her tentative
touch, leaving her staring openmouthed.
A distant hum vibrated through her,
growing in intensity until it engulfed
her every pore. Meg raised her hand to
her lips, touching where seconds before
his lips had been.
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