Witching Hour Read Online Free PDF Page A

appeared out of
    nowhere and began your incantations.'
    'I had every reason to believe I would be alone,' she said coldly.
    'And do you think you could switch off that spotlight of yours—
    always supposing you have seen all that you want,' she added with
    icy sarcasm.
    The torch remained on. He said, 'Tell me something, are you
    always so prickly? Even in that weird cloak with your hair all over
    your face, you're an attractive girl. You must have had men look at
    you before this.'
    'Oh, yes,' she said. 'But I've always been able to look at them too.
    The present situation is a little too one-sided for my taste.'
    He said, 'But easily remedied.' The torch beam swung up and away
    from her and she saw him properly for the first time. He was tall,
    his, face thin, with prominent cheekbones, a high-bridged nose and
    firm mouth and chin. And his hair was fair, lighter altogether than
    Rob's, and longer too, reaching almost to the collar of the black
    leather coat he was wearing.
    Morgana thought, 'A fair man—but it can't be ... it couldn't be! I
    don't believe it.'
    As if he could read her thoughts, he began to smile, deep laugh
    lines appearing beside his mouth.
    'You look as if you've seen a ghost.'
    She wanted to ask, 'Who are you?' but the words wouldn't come.
    Then the torch snapped off, and there was only the darkness and
    the howl of the wind, and the tall dimly seen figure who said
    quietly, 'And perhaps you have, at that.'
    He was coming towards her, and she recoiled involuntarily, her
    hands flying up in front of her to keep him away. Then she
    stumbled against a clump of grass and went flying.
    'Dear God!' The torch flicked on again, as she lay there, winded
    and humiliated, and he bent towards her pulling her up, his voice
    abrupt as he asked, 'Have you hurt yourself? Are you all right?'
    'I'm fine.' She'd twisted her ankle slightly and it hurt enough to
    make her wince when she put her weight on it, but she wasn't
    going admit it. She didn't want him to touch her again. He'd put his
    hands under her arms and lifted her as if she was a child, and she'd
    hated it.
    He said harshly, 'When I said you'd seen a ghost, I wasn't trying to
    frighten you. There was no need for you to leap away like that.
    What I meant was that I thought I possibly reminded you of
    someone.'
    Morgana could have said quite truthfully, 'You remind me of a
    number of people. You remind me of at least half the portraits
    hanging in the long gallery at home, except that they're all dark,
    and you're fair.' But she remained silent because there was still an
    outside chance it might all be a coincidence, and she could be
    wrong. Under her breath, she prayed that she was wrong.
    He said sharply, 'Well?'
    She shrugged. 'I don't spend my life looking for chance
    resemblances to people I know in local tourists. We have too many
    of them.'
    'I wasn't talking about chance, and I think you know it.' His hand
    gripped her arm, bruising her flesh, and she said with ice in her
    voice, 'Would you let go of me, please?'
    'When you've answered a few simple questions. For starters, what's
    your name?'
    'If this is a new version of the pick-up, then I'm not impressed,' she
    shot at him.
    'I'm tempted to make a very different impression on you.' His voice
    slowed to a drawl, but now he didn't sound amused at all. The
    torchlight was on her face again, and his hand moved from her arm
    to grip her chin. She wanted to pull away, but she wasn't sure she
    could evade his grasp, and it would be another humiliation to
    struggle and lose. So she remained very still, making her eyes
    blank, enduring his scrutiny.
    At last he said slowly, 'I'm Lyall Pentreath. And unless I miss my
    guess, you're my cousin Morgana.'
    'Brilliantly deduced,' she said huskily. 'And what are we supposed
    to do now—shake hands?'
    'I think it's a little late for that.' His voice was dry.
    'We expected you this morning.'
    'I was held, up.' He let her go and stepped back, and her breath
    escaped