Devil at Midnight Read Online Free PDF

whispered, tearing her guilty gaze from his taut rear end. “Christian, I’m here to help.”
    He scrambled up so quickly from the dark gray blanket that the movement must have hurt his back.
    “Who are you?” he demanded, one forearm swiping his tear-marked face. “Why come you here garbed like that?”
    His right hand held a dangerous-looking knife. Grace had no idea where the thing had come from. She hadn’t seen it anywhere nearby. The well-honed sheen of its blade had her heart jumping.
    “Um,” she said, the uncertainty that swept her unwelcome. “Don’t you recognize me?”
    “Are you one of Charles’s whores? Is this his notion of ajest?”
    “Hey,” she said. “I didn’t put myself in this nightgown. And it’s not like you’re wearing any more.”
    He looked down at himself and then up at her. For some reason, this caused her to blush harder. Clearly, he wasn’t modest. His underthings were too transparent to cover his front parts any better than they had the back. Whatever his age, the sexual organs cradled by that cloth were a man’s.
    “I grant you are a comely wench,” he conceded, “but I have no spirit for bed sport tonight.”
    “I’m not offering you bed sport.”
    He laid the huge knife on the mattress. “I am tired,” he sighed. “I mean no insult, but I bid you go.”
    Well, this was awkward. Possibly Grace should have asked her guide a few more questions before she leaped into this. Then again, how was she to know she’d need to when everything that had happened since she’d died was at least half dreamlike?
    “No,” she said unimaginatively back.
    Christian made a growling noise that spiked her temperature again. There were barely two strides between them. He closed them, his arms coming up in preparation to steer her away. Grace dug her heels in, determined to stand her ground for once.
    They both gasped as loud as gunshots when his body passed straight through hers. All she’d felt when it happened was a slight tingle.
    “Blessed Mary,” he breathed. They’d whipped around to face each other, and he was backed up against the door with his eyes gone wide. Swallowing hard enough to jerk his Adam’s apple, he waved his trembling hand through her form again. Her body didn’t stop the motion any more than it had before.
    “Holy cow,” Grace said, gazing down at his wrist disappearing disconcertingly into her belly. “I guess this is what he meant by not being able to send me here as a person!”
    “Specter,” Christian accused. “Why have you come here? Is it because of Lucy? Are you my punishment?”
    “I’m not a punishment,” she huffed, backing away until his hand slipped free. “And I’m not a specter!”
    Christian’s brows lowered. His eyes were so dark she thought they might actually be black. “You are not corporeal. And that gown could easily be grave clothes.”
    Much as she would have liked to, Grace couldn’t argue this. “All right, maybe I am a spirit, but I’m not a ghost. I died and met this man—an angel, I think. He said you and I had been friends before.”
    “I assure you, we have not met.”
    “He—” Grace struggled not to mumble with embarrassment. “He said we’d known each other in another life.”
    “Another life! I see I am to be haunted by a lunatic.”
    “I haven’t come to haunt you! ”
    “Why else would you travel hence? I am not a man with whom angels do business.” He laughed, short and sharp. “That is, unless they seek vengeance.”
    “I told you, the angel said we’re friends. I came to ... offer you comfort.”
    Christian’s muscles bunched impressively as he crossed his arms. Grace fought not to shiver at the breadth of his naked chest. It had a nice smattering of hair on it.
    “I need no pity,” he said. “Certainly not from a denizen of the otherworld.”
    The sneer in his tone drew Grace’s attention up. His face had grown handsomer with his anger, his sharp, thin nose as proud as an