Margo Maguire Read Online Free PDF Page A

between her ear and neck.
    He took a step back and brought his eyes into focus again. Where had those images come from?
    “…to visit old Mrs. Webster. She’s a widow, and gets very… Mr. Temple, is something wrong?”
    “No. Nothing.” Everything. What had just happened to him? “I’ll just… This way to the lake?” he asked, even though he knew it was.
    Miss Tearwater nodded. “Walk straight toward that big oak and you’ll see a path.”
    He gave a quick nod and started toward the lake. “Er, speaking of oaks,” he said, stopping and turning to her, “did you hear a tree fall just now?”
    “I, uh…well, yes, I suppose I did.” Her gaze shifted to her feet and she bit her lip. It was clearthat she wanted to evade him, and Sam was intrigued by her unease. Why should talk of this make her uncomfortable? Was that loud thud somehow related to the chicanery at the inn? Was there a machine of some sort that was used to produce the ghostly apparitions?
    “Well, good day to you, Mr. Temple, I’ll just be on my—”
    “What’s the hurry?”
    “No particular hurry. Enjoy your bees.” She started to move, but could not get past Sam on the narrow path. He knew there was no possibility of her pushing past him. Proper etiquette demanded that she keep her distance.
    She looked up at him warily. Within those stormy violet eyes was a wildness that Miss Tearwater nearly managed to hide. Perhaps she was not the proper lady she appeared to be.
    “Sorry.” He stepped aside, disconcerted by the conflicting urges that pulsed through him. Battling his need to escape her close proximity was the irrational desire to kiss her, to pull her to him and ravage her lips with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. When he realized that his hands were shaking, he turned abruptly and left her.
    What was happening to him? How could he feel such a fierce burst of desire for Miss Tearwater, yet be unable to touch her?
    Perhaps it was not only the inn that was haunted, but all its fields and acres, too.
     
    Lilly held her hand over her heart all the way back to the inn, certain that it would beat right throughher chest and land somewhere at her feet if she wasn’t careful.
    Samuel Temple had looked at her as if…
    “Everything all right, Lilly?” asked Tom.
    “Of course.”
    “It’s just that you’re all flushed like,” he said.
    “No, I’m fine. How’s your mother? Are her knees still stiff?”
    “Not so bad since she’s been using that salve you sent down.”
    “That’s good, then.” Lilly would never tell Tom or his mother that the salve was useless—that the ease Mrs. Fletcher felt was due to Lilly’s magic. Nor did she reveal the true reason their oldest ewe had borne triplets the day that Mrs. Fletcher’s knees had improved.
    “I’m driving down to Perry Crag’s farm. He’s got a few yearlings for sale, and I want to look them over. I won’t be back until morning, but you’ve got young Davy to help you, and Mrs. Bainbridge at the desk…”
    “We’ll be fine, Tom,” Lilly said. “You shouldn’t feel as if you must come up and check on us every day.”
    He pulled a face. “A woman running this business alone, and the inn so full of strangers all the time…”
    Lilly laughed. “Tom Fletcher, you’ll be having me think you don’t believe I can do it.”
    He started to scold her for saying such a thing, but she slipped away and went around to the back of the inn. She stood in the shade of the garden trellis and took a moment to settle herself after her encounter with Mr. Temple.
    Closing her eyes, she smoothed her damp handsdown the front of her gown, as if that could somehow still the thudding of her heart. She could not recall ever meeting such a potent man, someone who had the power to make her melt with just a glance. Something dark and wary lay hidden in the depths of his blue eyes, and Lilly sensed a vulnerability that was belied by his considerable size.
    “Ah, Miss Tearwater!”
    Mr. Payton and