A Bewitching Bride Read Online Free PDF

warned him off? But he had warned him off. He’d been too obtuse to see it.
    He picked up his cards and glared at them.

Three

    The clock on the mantel struck the hour, startling Kate from her reveries. It was time to keep her appointment with Dr. Rankin. There had been too much noise and too many interruptions earlier that evening when she’d tried to speak to him, so they had arranged to meet later, when the staff doused the lamps and guests were forced to retire for the night. All was quiet. The house seemed to have settled into its nightly mode.
    He’d particularly asked her to bring the note. After folding it and thrusting it into her pocket, she scooped up a tartan shawl and slipped soundlessly from the room, then locked the door behind her. There was no need for her to carry a candle. The hotel was not in complete darkness. On every floor, a lamp was lit, but there were enough shadows to conceal her from the porters who patrolled the corridors.
    Her steps slowed when she entered the dining room. There were no lamps lit here, but it hardly mattered. In the dark, she could see as well as a cat, and she moved soundlessly to the little hothouse without bumping into a single chair. “Dr. Rankin?” she whispered. There was no response, but she smelled the faint odor of tobacco smoke. Then she felt it—a draft of cold air from the French door that opened to the outside. Evidently, the doctor had gone outside to enjoy his smoke.
    Her hand curled around the note in her pocket, and she slowly withdrew it. She would be glad to give it into Dr. Rankin’s keeping. It made her ill to think that some warped mind could hate her so much.
    She pushed through the door and hesitated. “Dr. Rankin?” she quavered. The fear she felt was natural, she told herself. It had nothing to do with her sixth sense. Then why didn’t Dr. Rankin answer her? Something else filled her nostrils . . . the smell of strong spirits? Whiskey?
    When the door behind her clicked shut, her whole body contracted. The door could not be opened from the outside.
    Easy, she told herself. Easy. Maybe a servant had come out to smoke, or one of the guests. Maybe Dr. Rankin had been delayed. She heard a soft tread at her back and she whipped around with a moan bordering on panic.
    “Dr. Rankin?”
    A shadow emerged from the dark.
    This time, her voice quavered. “Dr. Rankin?”
    Still no response.
    Every cell in her body warned her of approaching doom. Her nerve broke. Picking up her skirts, she dashed through the shrubbery toward the moor.
     
     
    Fear is a powerful motivator, but terror is even better.
    This was the thought that passed through Kate’s mind as she rushed headlong toward the dry stone dike at the edge of the moor. Beyond the dike, near the top of the incline, was the stone where the witches of Deeside were once burned at the stake. But that was three hundred years ago. No sane person believed in witches in these modern times.
    That was a lie. She’d been the object of name-calling and ridicule as a child, before she’d learned to keep her mouth shut. She wasn’t a witch, she reminded herself. She was a normal girl with the uncanny gift of sensing danger. As now.
    It was dark on that lonely hillside, and though nothing was clear, she saw shadows within shadows and knew when to leap over an obstacle and when to go around it. Cat’s eyes, Dr. Rankin told her. It was merely another indication of her God-given gifts, and everyone had gifts, so Rankin said.
    Where was Dr. Rankin? Why wasn’t he here to help her?
    She could hear faint footfalls behind her, but sometimes the snow muffled the sound. All the same, she could sense that her pursuer was gaining on her, so she pushed herself to the limit of her endurance. Each labored step taxed her strength. Each breath she took was harder than the last. He’d planned it that way. He’d forced her to take to the higher ground, knowing that she would be exhausted when he finally caught up to