Escape the Night by Mignon G. Eberhart Read Free Book Online

are pretty steep. There are railings …”
    “I’ve found one.” She clung to it and he came up a few steps. “Are you all right? Here take my hand.”
    She felt for it through the gloom; his face came out of it slowly, a pale oval; his hand found hers and was warm and tight. He guided her down another step. “Sit down here. The steps are dry. Now then.” She sat down, folding her long dressing gown around her bare ankles.
    “You’re not going to catch cold?” he said, sitting on the step below and reaching for cigarettes. She could see him dimly now and the package of cigarettes he held toward her, and when he struck a match again and cupped his hands around it for her light she leaned forward to take it and glanced quickly into his face, so near her own. And so exactly the face she’d remembered; the curve of his mouth, half smiling, his straight, strong nose; his eyes narrowed, intent upon the match he was holding. “Got it?” he said, gave her a brief but rather searching look, and then blew out the match. “Warm enough?”
    “Yes, I’d forgotten how warm it is here this time of the year.”
    “Always like this.”
    They smoked a moment in silence. She said finally: “Where have you been, Jem, since I saw you last?”
    “Oh.” He waited, and then said, “Here and there. In South America for awhile. Back here for a few months. Then away again. I had a civilian job for the army the first year of the war. Building some air bases. Got a touch of malaria; I’m back here for a few weeks. Waiting”—he hesitated and said—“waiting orders, as a matter of fact. I’ve not seen you since—well, it was at Amanda’s wedding, wasn’t it?”
    “Yes.”
    “I remember. We walked in the garden afterward.”
    “Yes.”
    Another silence prolonged itself. It was a companionable silence, although it struck Serena that for a girl who’d traveled across a continent to see a man she was turning rather shy and tongue-tied in his presence. Yet the sense of quiet and harmony was pleasant, and the sense of his presence there on the step below.
    “I was in Mexico for awhile after that,” he said presently. “I bought a ranch there; made money from it, too. It’s a funny place. Nice though …” He talked for a little about it.
    She must talk, too, she thought suddenly; be light and gay and friendly—and attractive. Wasn’t that the idea when you thought perhaps you were in love with a man and had been in love with him for a long time? Definitely, it was. Well, then here was an opportunity. Night and the soft night air and Jem so close to her that his shoulder touched her knee. But it was rather nice, too, just to listen and to be there. Quietly.
    He turned abruptly and put out his cigarette and got up.
    “I’ll go along. You’d better get your sleep.”
    “Oh,” said Serena, unguardedly and in disappointment. And then got quickly to her feet. “Yes, of course! It must be nearly morning!”
    “I’m glad I happened to stroll this way. Good night, my dear.”
    “Good night, Jem. Again.”
    “Again? Oh, you meant at the Lodge tonight. I was thinking about the night Amanda was married. And …” He stopped and pulled her down toward him and into his arms.
    He held her lightly and kissed her very lightly, his mouth barely touching her own. And then suddenly, unexpectedly and hard, like a wave breaking wildly into surge and tumult, his arms tightened close around her and his mouth found her own again.
    It was a different kiss. Very different, that was really all she knew. His arms and the warmth and strength with which he held her and the pressure of his mouth against her own shut out everything else in the world. There was no sky, no blackness, no house; nothing that mattered anywhere except that moment in time and Jem and herself.
    And then abruptly again he released her. He said, but rather shakenly this time, so his voice was different, too, “I—didn’t know I was going to do that. You’ve grown