Wolf Island Read Online Free PDF Page B

standing in front of her. He lifted his gaze
and locked eyes with her. Once again, she felt her senses spin out of control,
and a soft, white cloud settled over her brain.
    Gradually,
he lowered his head, his eyes never leaving hers until his lashes swept down,
covering his verdant gaze. He laid a warm kiss with just a hint of tongue at
the base of her throat.
    When
he lifted his head, cool air brushed over the spot he had kissed, making her
feel bereft. He watched her for a moment, his gaze resting on her mouth. “Sleep
well, Abigail.” His velvety words hung in the air as he turned and strode down
the hallway.
    She
couldn’t move, at least not until her fluttering heart slid down from her
throat into her chest and the strength eased back into her wobbly legs. She
heaved a calming breath, wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs, and watched
Devlin until he disappeared around the corner.
    Instinctively,
she raised a hand to her throat and touched the spot that he’d caressed. When
his lips had settled on her skin, she’d never wanted to be kissed, really
kissed with plenty of lips and tongue, more in her life.
    She
rubbed her palm between her breasts and sighed. What was he up to? What kind of
game was he playing? Should she play along?
    She
shook her head to clear her mind of the sensual fog Devlin had created, and
glanced at her watch. The night was just beginning, and she had work to do.
     
    Hours
later, Abby paused in the murky darkness of Devlin’s office and shone her
flashlight around the room.
    His
desk, a slab of granite on a large maple pedestal, sat in front of two wide
windows flanked on either side by bookcases. A dark brown leather sofa occupied
space in front of a white marble fireplace.
    Somewhere,
a clock chimed the hour. The sound echoed eerily in the silence of midnight.
She had decided to start her search in Devlin’s office and go from there, even
though she wasn’t much of a detective. Perhaps there were phone records or
guest receipts that might give her a clue as to Miranda’s whereabouts.
    Miranda
had an abundance of wanderlust, so it wasn’t unusual for her to go running off
at a moment’s notice. But even during her adventures, she always managed to
keep in touch.
    Abby
swept the flashlight’s beam over the top of the large desk. No drawers in which
to hide things. Papers were stacked neatly over the surface, and a fax machine
sat on one corner.
    Creak. Bump.
    A
spurt of panic kicked her heartbeat into a rapid tattoo. The breath seized in
her lungs. She halted in her tracks, switched off her flashlight, and listened.
    Please, God, don’t let Devlin catch me snooping.
    Rain
and wind beat against the windows and the castle walls. Lightning flashed. She
whipped her head toward the nearest window and saw a man’s dark silhouette
through the glass. A scream slid from her gut into her throat, and she covered
her mouth with her hand to stifle the sound. Lightning flickered and popped
again, but through the window, only rain met her vision.
    Abby
inhaled and exhaled several calming breaths. After a moment, her heartbeat
settled and her pulse slowed to a more normal rhythm. Devlin was right --
being here in this castle affected her imagination. Who would be outside in
such a storm? No one in their right mind, that’s for sure. There were some
trees growing close to the window. She must have seen their shadow, that’s all.
    She
clicked on her flashlight once more and rifled through the papers on the desk.
She found nothing to reveal the slightest detail about her sister, only a lot
of correspondence between Devlin and a company called Morgan Research and
Development.
    Was
the company a family business, or did Devlin own it outright? What was the real
reason he gave Otis a home? They’d grown up in separate parts of the country,
with completely different backgrounds. He could hire anyone to cook for him and
help with the upkeep of the castle. Why Otis in particular? The man was indeed
an