Fire of My Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

slid her feet to the floor. Exhausted last night, she must have fallen
asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. But her rest had been
interrupted by flashes of strange events, playing out in her mind like a
preview for an old movie.
    Except the
images weren’t exciting or amusing--more disturbing. People rushing about in pain
and panic. Brief dreams, but their stark realism had left her shaken.
    Nonsense.
They were nightmares, that was all.
    She moved
across the room to a window with thick clear glass, tucked her nightshirt under
her, and sitting on the deep wooden sill, looked out into the grounds.
Listlessly, she stared at the familiar bland view. As they had the day before,
the grounds appeared dry and desolate. No sign of crops or livestock, though
several barns and sheds littered the landscape in the distance.
    Leaning
forward, the rocky outlines of what must have been once sculptured garden beds came
into view. Similar no doubt to the one she’d stubbed her toe on trying to find
a way into the wretched place. Turning her attention back to the room, she felt
strange, like there was something missing, or that she’d forgotten. Yet the
night before was only a blur. She must be still tired.
    Her weird
imagination had to be the effect of jetlag and a lack of food.
    She pulled
up her socks and descended the back stairs leading to the kitchen. In the lower
hallway, she reached out, touched the wall with her fingertips. Again,
something seemed familiar, but exactly what, eluded her.
    Déjà vu
perhaps?
    She leaned
against the jamb in the kitchen doorway. The room looked very different in the light
of day. An old square ceramic sink sat in one corner with what looked to be a
hand water pump. Terrific. No electricity, and little chance of the hot bath
she’d desired. She shuddered to think where the bathroom was--if they had one
at all.
    Straightening
upright, she entered. In the center of the room stood an immense wooden table
piled high with old porcelain plates, cups and silverware that would befit any
fine antique shop. Interesting, but she’d only one thing on her mind.
    Breakfast.
    She’d never
felt so hungry. Coffee and toast, and some chocolate wouldn’t go astray.
Patting her stomach as it growled at the thought, she promised herself to go do
some shopping later. A village lay somewhere nearby, though she couldn’t recall
how far, having dozed on and off during the taxi ride. Hopefully it would be
within reasonable walking distance.
    Raking
through the various tins lining the wall above the sink, she happened across
what smelled like tea leaves. No sugar or milk, but at least it would be hot
and wake her up a bit.
    She spooned
a generous amount into an old earthenware teapot then picked a mug from the shelf
and blew away the dust. Forget the gardener, her cousin needed a maid.
    Gardener? She’d met a man
last night…tall, broad-shouldered… Hadn’t she? Oh hell. She needed tea.
    Using a
mitt hanging off the blackened mantle, she lifted the heavy kettle from its
hook inside the fireplace.
    Carrying it
to the sink, she began to pump for water. Come on, come on. It flowed a bit
dirty at first then ran clear. She rinsed and filled the kettle, lugged it back
over to the hearth. Never one for camping, she studied the cold empty
fireplace, pondering how to get it started. No wood around and she didn’t carry
a lighter. Where was a boy scout when she needed one? Checking around the
mantle, kettle still in hand, she sought out some matches. Cripes, next she’d
be rubbing two sticks together.
    At the edge
of her vision, something moved.
    Someone
stood in the doorway leading outside. Startled, she dropped the kettle on the
floor. The crash echoed through the room. Water spewed from its spout like an
angry cry.
    A scream
for help jumped to her throat, but was quelled just as quick. She recognized
him. At least, she thought she did--though what an astonishing sight he was.
    A tall,
handsome man stood there