The Legacy by Fayrene Preston Read Free Book Online

he had pleaded fatigue and retired to his room, badly needing distance between Caitlin and himself. Once In bed, he’d fallen into a deep sleep. But now he heard something.
    Music. A lilting melody drifted through the open windows and into his room with the night air. What was that tune? It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place It. And who was playing music at—he checked his watch—midnight?
    He rolled off the bed, reached for his pants, and dressed so quickly that he left the room without taking time to button his shirt.
    Following the music, he made his way through the halls and rooms of the huge house. He walked through shades of darkness and shadows overlaid by shadows, and he didn’t once think of his reasons for coming to SwanSea. It was the music that drew him. Or so he told himself.
    Downstairs in one of the drawing rooms, where dustcovers took on the odd shapes of the furniture beneath them, he discovered the source of the music—an old upright Victrola phonograph with a 78-rpm record playing on it. And outside the open doors on the veranda, Caitlin stood at the balustrade. “Caitlin?”
    She turned, her absorbed expression clearing as she saw him. “Hi. What are you doing up?”
    “The music woke me."
    She looked startled for a moment, then glanced up to his room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about being on the same side of the house as your bedroom.” “It’s all right.” He slid his hands into his pockets and strolled toward her, his gaze roaming intently over her. She was wearing peach satin lounging pajamas, with the legs wide at the bottom, a lacy camisole, and her hair like fire against the oveijacket. She looked too beautiful, too desirable.
    He felt too much on edge, too full of desire.
    He should return to his room, he thought, and in the next moment gave in to his curiosity. “What are you doing up?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. It just seems to be one of those nights when I’m finding it hard to go to sleep.”
    “Do you have many nights like that?” “Occasionally . . . when the events of the day refuse to be still and rest until the morning.”
    “That’s an interesting way to put it.”
    Was it? she wondered. Actually, she was too caught up in him to be sure of what she'd said. She had only to cast her eyes to the enticing space between the edges of his unbuttoned shirt to see the fine black hair that covered his chest. And she had only to Inhale to breathe In the masculine scent of his flesh. “What about you? Do you ever have trouble sleeping?”
    “Not lately,” he said, a tinge of self-disgust in his tone. “I put my head on the pillow, and I go out like a light. ”
    She laid her hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort. “It won’t last. You 'll get better. ”
    He glanced down at her hand, feeling heat from her touch instead of the comfort she'd intended. Casually, he moved his arm and dislodged her hand.
    He was trying to do what was right with her. Lord knew he was trying.
    “I’m already better,” he said. “I've always healed quickly, and I had a feeling that as soon as I could escape from that damned hospital, I’d improve rapidly.”
    “Escape?”
    “A figure of speech. ’’ The peach satin of her outfit took on added luster in the silvery moonlight. He reached out one finger and touched the shoulder. Nice. But he was sure that the sensuousness of the material was nothing compared to her skin.
    “You know, I haven’t asked what you do for a living. ”
    He stilled. After a moment, he said, “I'm a lawyer.” “A lawyer? That’s interesting.”
    “Not as interesting as whatever happened today to worry you so much you can’t sleep.”
    She supposed it would sound strange to him if she told him that since their meeting yesterday, he had begun to dominate her thoughts to the point that the normal course of her life seemed to be altering. It sounded strange, even to her. She settled for part of the truth. “I received another postcard from my