was pushed above her knees. Most of her arms were exposed, as was a wide swath just above her breasts. Something metal glinted down the center of her garment when she shifted.
Her lips parted on a low groan, freeing Radnor from his stupor. He opened the gate and stepped into the stall. Her hair barely touched her nape and was as black as the night. Her lips were rosy and full, begging to be kissed. Her cheekbones were high, her nose straight.
He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he noted the pallor of her skin. He moved closer and the faintest scent of flowers wafted before him. Recognition hit him full force. He knew this woman. Knew the feel of her skin beneath his palms, the scent of body when it was aroused, the full shape of her ample breasts and the strength of her supple limbs.
She was the woman from his dream.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at him. Her eyes were gray, the same color as a morning mist over the lake. She blinked once, opened her mouth and screamed.
32
Chapter Four
The shape of a huge man loomed over her. Roxanne scrambled away even as she opened her mouth and screamed. Michael had found her and he was trying to kill her.
She blinked as she scuttled away. She was lying on a hard, scratchy surface.
Something was wrong. She didn’t recognize her surroundings. Had Michael knocked her out and taken her somewhere?
Her body broke out in a cold sweat and her heart pounded so hard it hurt her chest.
Roxanne couldn’t breathe. She tried to scream again but couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Terror filled her even as her fingers closed into fists. She would fight back. She was a victim no longer.
He moved into a shaft of light coming from a high window. Roxanne frowned. It wasn’t Michael. Her heart skipped a beat. He was huge, maybe even bigger than her ex-husband. His expression was fierce. His golden-brown eyes reminded her of those of an eagle, sharp and predatory. His jaw was square, his lips firm. He had a bump in the center of his rather large nose and a wicked scar on his right cheekbone just below his eye.
His dark brown hair fell all the way to his waist. She swallowed hard when she realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His massive chest was bare, covered only in a light sheen of sweat. Oh god. Was he one of Michael’s friends? The one from prison Michael had mentioned. He didn’t have any tattoos. But that didn’t mean anything. It was naïve to think everyone who went to prison had them.
He held out his hand. “There is no need to be afraid. You are safe.” She frowned. She’d heard those words before. His voice was familiar too. The fog cleared from her mind and she tried to remember what had happened. She’d hit her head on the edge of the table. Michael had caught her when she’d made a run for the kitchen, dragging her back to the living room and tossing her onto the davenport. She’d landed on top of the tapestry.
She stilled, staring at the stranger who’d made no move toward her. She noted a few things she hadn’t before. He was wearing thick bronze bands around his biceps and his wrists. Leather pants molded the heavy muscles in his thighs. Brown leather boots covered his feet, rising almost all the way to his knees. But it was the huge sword strapped to his waist that caught her attention. How she’d missed it before now, she had no idea. The thing had to be at least four feet long.
“You’re the mystery man from my dream,” she blurted.
33
He frowned, his dark brows drawing together. He took a step toward her and she shifted back until her back struck something hard. She was in a stone room of some kind, sitting on several bales of straw or hay. Impossible.
“Dream?” He lowered himself slowly until he was sitting next to her. She was effectively caged in with nowhere to go. He lifted his hand toward her and she flinched in spite of her resolve to be brave. He hesitated but didn’t stop until his fingers cupped her jaw. “What
Her lips parted on a low groan, freeing Radnor from his stupor. He opened the gate and stepped into the stall. Her hair barely touched her nape and was as black as the night. Her lips were rosy and full, begging to be kissed. Her cheekbones were high, her nose straight.
He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he noted the pallor of her skin. He moved closer and the faintest scent of flowers wafted before him. Recognition hit him full force. He knew this woman. Knew the feel of her skin beneath his palms, the scent of body when it was aroused, the full shape of her ample breasts and the strength of her supple limbs.
She was the woman from his dream.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at him. Her eyes were gray, the same color as a morning mist over the lake. She blinked once, opened her mouth and screamed.
32
Chapter Four
The shape of a huge man loomed over her. Roxanne scrambled away even as she opened her mouth and screamed. Michael had found her and he was trying to kill her.
She blinked as she scuttled away. She was lying on a hard, scratchy surface.
Something was wrong. She didn’t recognize her surroundings. Had Michael knocked her out and taken her somewhere?
Her body broke out in a cold sweat and her heart pounded so hard it hurt her chest.
Roxanne couldn’t breathe. She tried to scream again but couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Terror filled her even as her fingers closed into fists. She would fight back. She was a victim no longer.
He moved into a shaft of light coming from a high window. Roxanne frowned. It wasn’t Michael. Her heart skipped a beat. He was huge, maybe even bigger than her ex-husband. His expression was fierce. His golden-brown eyes reminded her of those of an eagle, sharp and predatory. His jaw was square, his lips firm. He had a bump in the center of his rather large nose and a wicked scar on his right cheekbone just below his eye.
His dark brown hair fell all the way to his waist. She swallowed hard when she realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His massive chest was bare, covered only in a light sheen of sweat. Oh god. Was he one of Michael’s friends? The one from prison Michael had mentioned. He didn’t have any tattoos. But that didn’t mean anything. It was naïve to think everyone who went to prison had them.
He held out his hand. “There is no need to be afraid. You are safe.” She frowned. She’d heard those words before. His voice was familiar too. The fog cleared from her mind and she tried to remember what had happened. She’d hit her head on the edge of the table. Michael had caught her when she’d made a run for the kitchen, dragging her back to the living room and tossing her onto the davenport. She’d landed on top of the tapestry.
She stilled, staring at the stranger who’d made no move toward her. She noted a few things she hadn’t before. He was wearing thick bronze bands around his biceps and his wrists. Leather pants molded the heavy muscles in his thighs. Brown leather boots covered his feet, rising almost all the way to his knees. But it was the huge sword strapped to his waist that caught her attention. How she’d missed it before now, she had no idea. The thing had to be at least four feet long.
“You’re the mystery man from my dream,” she blurted.
33
He frowned, his dark brows drawing together. He took a step toward her and she shifted back until her back struck something hard. She was in a stone room of some kind, sitting on several bales of straw or hay. Impossible.
“Dream?” He lowered himself slowly until he was sitting next to her. She was effectively caged in with nowhere to go. He lifted his hand toward her and she flinched in spite of her resolve to be brave. He hesitated but didn’t stop until his fingers cupped her jaw. “What
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