Succumb to Me by Julia Keaton

approached the parlor
window with silent stealth. There, she paused once more, surveying
the yard, the street, and the shadows around the shrubbery. Nothing
moved that she couldn’t immediately identify.
     
    Crouching, she grasped the window and slowly,
carefully pushed it open, gratified to find he’d not discovered her
entry into his house the last time.
     
    She paused to listen again once she had the
window open.
     
    The house was as silent as a tomb. Relief
flooded her.
     
    She almost chuckled, thinking of his
expression when he found out she’d come back and taken the painting
out from under his regal nose. How fitting that his colossal
conceit would be the cause of his failure.
     
    She hooked a leg over the sill, sitting on it
as she eased her other leg inside. With both feet planted firmly,
she straightened, pausing to listen once more. A hand reached out
from the dark, grabbing her arm in a firm grip then twirled her
away from the window. She came up against the parlor wall with a
jarring thump. A body slammed full length into hers, trapping her
against the wall.
     
    Winter sucked in a breath to scream and a
hand clamped over her mouth, smothering her cry. She strained her
eyes wide, but could see nothing in the inky room but shadows and
the indistinct outline of a man.
     
    “I thought I’d made it clear last night not
to return, Winter.” His voice was soft, an amused edge to its
tone.
     
    It was him . Damn him to hell! How had he caught her this
time? She’d been so careful....
     
    “You’ll not scream?”
     
    She nodded as much as her restriction would
allow and he released her. The sound of him moving across the room
reached her and then a flint was struck and a dim wash of light
flooded the room as he lit a candle.
     
    “How did you know I’d come tonight?” Winter
demanded. “I saw you leave....”
     
    “Did you?” He paused for a moment, allowing
that to sink in. “Apparently you’re laboring under the
misconception that you’re dealing with a greenhorn. I knew last
night that you would try this again. You have a stubborn streak a
mile wide. It’s one of your most admirable traits, I think,
certainly one of your more convenient characteristics. It makes you
somewhat more predictable, you see.”
     
    Winter glared at him, her jaw setting
belligerently. “I am not stubborn.”
     
    His brows rose skeptically, but he didn’t
belabor the point. “Now, why have you come back, I wonder?” he
asked pensively as he moved around the room, lighting candles until
she could see him clearly in the golden glow.
     
    He was dressed, she saw, in a gentleman’s
evening attire—a facade, of course. No gentleman would behave this
way.
     
    Fleetingly, she considered her own
behavior and knew it sorely lacking, but she was inclined to
dismiss it. He’d driven her to
desperate measures. There were no books on etiquette to guide a
young lady through such a situation for the simple reason that
ladies rarely found themselves in her position, having to safeguard
her own reputation. Without a protector, without guidance in how to
handle it, she knew of nothing to do but pursue a course as
repugnant to her as it was necessary. For her mother’s sake if not
her own, she could not give up.
     
    She inched toward the window.
     
    “You know why,” she said, not daring to
glance at the window for fear of giving away her intentions yet
again.
     
    “I’d like to hear the truth from those lush
lips of yours. It would be a pleasant change, don’t you think?”
     
    Winter’s eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t about
to allow him to bait her into doing something rash. He was far
enough away she had a chance of escaping. Recklessly, she rushed
for the window. She’d gotten halfway out when he reached her and
grasped her around the waist, hauling her inside kicking and
flailing her arms. He deposited her on the floor and slammed the
window shut.
     
    He looked down at her, rubbing his chin
thoughtfully,