Eden's Spell Read Online Free PDF Page B

loath to think. She had been alone, she told herself. She had been alone—she had been …
    Dammit! She had been drugged; it was the only explanation.
    And Jason must have been drugged too. Jason! Katrina winced, swinging about again, sick that she had been worried about such a trivial thing as how she’d spent the night when she still hadn’t seen her son, didn’t have any idea of where he might be.
    She stormed out the door, ready to scream, frightened despite herself, and bracing for whatever she might see. She stepped out of the cabin, ferociously yelling, “Where is my son! What in God’s name is going on here?”
    Her voice seemed to echo down the hall, which was flanked on the starboard side first by a dining table and overhead cabinets, then by a large and handsomely carved chart desk. Across from that desk was a well-equipped galley; down from the galley—near her—was a long Formica shelf and more cabinets.
    The Formica table set her into panic all over again. There were all kinds of test tubes there, set carefully in holders, labeled meticulously. And right above the table were three little screens that appeared to be televisions.
    Narrowing her eyes, Katrina took a step closer to them, then gasped. One was blank. One gave a picture of the cabin she had just vacated. And in the other, she saw Jason, sprawled out comfortably on a nice big bunk, a smile on his lips as he slept.
    She gathered the oversized robe to her throat. Jason! She touched the screen, tears in her eyes. Jason, Jason, Jason! He seemed to be okay. She just had to reach him.
    Oh, God! They had been kidnapped by a maniac….
    â€œGood morning, Mrs. Denver. Coffee?”
    Letting out a little screech at the sound of the deep male voice, Katrina spun around, bracing herself against the table. She thought it would be the silver-eyed stranger in the spacesuit once again.
    He had silver eyes, all right. Silver and steel. He stood on the bottom rung of the three steps that led to the deck, but he was clad in white slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt with some kind of epaulets on the shoulders.
    He even wore a white, blue-rimmed cap, with some kind of insignia on it.
    She realized dimly that he was a tall man, at least a good foot taller than she was. He appeared lean but not really slim. His shoulders were broad beneath the white cotton shirt, but his waist was slim and his hips were narrow.
    He was well tanned, and his eyes were vivid against the bronze of his features. It struck her that he was a very handsome man, although not in the conventional sense. His mouth was generous, his jaw square, and his cheekbones were high and broad. He was clean shaven, with neatly cropped tawny hair feathering beneath his cap. His nose was long and straight. There were faint lines around his eyes and mouth, telling her that he was probably around forty. The power of his physique and the rugged appeal of his face startled her.
    When she didn’t answer, he moved casually to the stove, where he proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee.
    Michael watched her warily. Damn her; he felt so guilty, he couldn’t even find the words to be polite to her! He tried to rationalize that his guilt was her fault for not leaving the island but that only made him feel more guilty!
    Katrina stared at him incredulously for a moment, then flew at him in a snarling burst of fury.
    He saw her coming, and quickly set the coffee down. He might deserve a good slap in the face, but he sure as hell didn’t feel like being scalded—not when she had refused to get off the island!
    He caught her, then held her at arm’s length as she tried wildly to slash and kick him. Did she remember more than he had suspected? he wondered grimly.
    â€œStop it—” he began, but just as suddenly as she had flown at him, she wrenched away from him, although she was still eying him with the look of a wary tigress prepared to go to battle again.