Forever Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 2) by Cynthia Luhrs Read Free Book Online Page A

moonlight filtered in, illuminating the stone floor. While it might be empty, this room, like hers, gave off a cold, creepy vibe.
    “Well, that won’t do at all.”
    The next room was also empty, though there was no hole in the ceiling and no scary feelings. A noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak made her hurry out of the room, yanking the door shut.
    “Nope. Not that one either.”
    There was one last room—the room Featherton said was locked. But it wouldn’t hurt to try, would it? She stood in front of the door at the end of the hall, her hand poised above the handle. Wind blew across the stones, making the castle sigh, and she snatched her hand away, feeling like whatever she did next would irrevocably change her life. “Now you’re being silly. It’s only a room.”
    Grasping the handle, Elizabeth pressed down, bouncing on her toes when the door swung open without a creak. Cold stone met her fingers as she searched for a light switch like she’d seen in the rest of the rooms. It was too dark to see inside, so she went back to her room, lit a candle, and placed a glass globe over it to keep the flame from blowing out. The candlelight provided enough light to see a few feet ahead of her as she stepped into the room. The drapes were drawn, so the first thing she did was to pull them open, letting moonlight spill into the room.  
    “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
    The hair on her arms and neck stayed put. Nothing made her feel like malevolent eyes tracked her every move, and, like Goldilocks, Elizabeth found this last room to be just right.
    The walls were stone on two sides, the other two finished in deep blue, as if someone had updated half of the room, gotten bored, and left. The space oozed hedonism and masculinity. The bed had curtains at each corner, ready to shut the inhabitants inside a cozy nest, keeping out the biting cold. The expanse of bed made her itch to stretch out and see how far her fingers would be from the edges. While this room didn’t have a bathroom, there was something about it that called out to her, tempting Elizabeth to sleep here tonight. The fireplace was empty. And as much as she wanted to, there was no way she could light a fire without giving away the fact she was snooping where she wasn’t supposed to be.  
    “If I sneak back to my own room now, no one will ever know I was here.” The room stayed quiet, waiting. Back in her own room, Elizabeth mussed up the bed so it would look like she’d spent the night. Book in hand, she padded back down the hall, into the welcoming room. As long as she removed all traces by morning, she thought she’d get away with sleeping here tonight. Tomorrow she’d try to stay in her assigned room, hoping the creepiness would move elsewhere.
    The sound of thunder made her drop the book. Pressing her nose to the glass, she peered into the darkness. When lightning illuminated the grounds, she could see the storm clouds creeping closer, blotting out the moon. The next crash made her squeak. She jumped into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. They were soft, the linen worn smooth from years of use.  
    Between the cold and the storm, she was wide awake. A few chapters before bed would help ease the nervousness flooding through her body. The storm felt sinister as it crept closer and closer. Perhaps not the brightest idea to be reading a novel of psychological suspense before bed.
    What if a crazed killer came out from a secret passage while she slept? “Rainbow Elizabeth Smith, now you’re being ridiculous.”
    Saying it out loud helped. Losing herself to another time and place in a book would also help. After a few chapters, she had to go to the bathroom. Too much tea or nerves. The book landed on the floor as she slipped out from beneath the covers, and the cold made her flinch.  
    As she knelt down to pick up the book, the candlelight illuminated something under the bed. Her fingers touched a scrap of fabric. It felt like