Silken Dreams Read Online Free PDF

repeated to herself over and over again. The door was known for its faulty latch, and she’d merely scared herself with all her “Raven” nonsense.
    No one was there. No one was there.
    But she couldn’t be sure. Inching sideways toward the extinguished lamp, Lettie held a hand to her eyes, squinting against the force of the wind that came from the open door. Outside it was so dark. So black. The wind had blown a scudding layer of clouds across the sky, obscuring the faint sliver of moon so that only a single finger of light stretched from beneath the swinging door that led into the hall, but the rest of the room lay huddled in blackness.
    Easing toward the table, Lettie was finally able to find the lamp and the matchbox in the center. With hands that trembled, she managed to light one matchstick, carefully shielding it with her fingers and lifting it high so that its feeble light stretched toward the door.
    No one was there.
    Hesitantly moving forward, Lettie reached out to close the door. Long before her hands could touch the rough wood, the matchstick flickered and died. Moving more quickly, she lunged the last few feet and slammed the door shut, then turned and leaned heavily against it, eyes closed, gasping for breath.
    It had just been the wind.
    Her eyes opened and she screamed. The door to the hallway had been propped open. Silhouetted in the faint light was the clear shape of a man.

Chapter 3
    “Damn, you’re not—”
    The man stepped forward, and the light from the hall spilled around his features, highlighting the dark hair, firm chin, slim nose.
    Lettie’s scream died beneath a gasp of disbelief. He’d come back!
    Almost before the thought had formed in her head, Lettie became aware of the way the man cradled one hand awkwardly against his stomach. Even as she took a step forward, she saw something drip from his hand and splash on the floor.
    Blood.
    “What happened?”
    “Shh!” The man’s forehead creased in impatience and he lifted his hand, revealing the revolver he’d held hidden behind the line of his thigh. Cocking his head, he seemed to listen intently for a moment, his entire body focused on the activity. The dim light gleamed on the dark, ash-brown waves of his hair.
    Then Lettie heard it, too: the muffled thunder of hooves.
    The man’s gaze darted back, pinning Lettie to the door. She sensed a dangerous purpose in his azure eyes and a fierce will to survive.
    How many times had Lettie lived through just such a predicament in her fantasies? How many times had she imagined herself confronting the Highwayman only moments before his capture?
    As if her imaginings had been as real as the man who faced her now, Lettie found herself reacting instinctively to the situation.
    Shoving the table aside, she whipped the braided rug away from the floor to reveal the trapdoor that led into the cellar. Yanking on the rope handle, she gestured to a set of rickety stairs.
    “You’ve got to hide.”
    She glanced up to find the man regarding her with narrowed blue eyes. Obviously wary of her actions and her immediate solution to the problem, he seemed to battle with himself, wondering if he should trust her. Her idea of a hiding place would also serve as the perfect trap.
    The sound of approaching horses grew nearer. Reaching out, she took the man’s arm and yanked him toward the cellar. Handing him the bath sheet she’d clutched in front of her for protection, Lettie instructed, “Wrap this around your hand to stop the bleeding.” The stranger disappeared into the blackness of the cellar, and she hurriedly added, “And whatever you do, don’t make any noise!”
    Dropping the trapdoor, Lettie dragged the rug back into place, tugged on the table, then quickly lit the lamp and settled the chimney into place.
    The back door slammed open and Lettie gasped, whirling to press her back against the table. This time when she glanced up, the doorway wasn’t empty.
    A shape stepped forward, and a betraying