The Seductive Impostor by Janet Chapman Read Free Book Online

protected Sub Rosa blocking out what light the fog-shrouded moon was casting. Being as quiet as she could, Rachel used her little flashlight to guide her, hurriedly limping to the huge library door, intending to open it a crack and check her escape route.
    Rachel slowly turned the knob on the huge oak door and tried to pull it open, only to find that it wouldn’t budge.
    But the knob turned easily. She aimed her light at the floor to see if the door was caught on the rug. Nothing. She looked up and gave another frantic tug on the portal.
    And then she froze. The beam of her flashlight was shining on a large hand just above her head. A thick, powerful-looking wrist covered with a thin gold watch and crisp white cuff was holding the huge door shut.
    Rachel dropped her head and closed her eyes. Keenan Oakes didn’t have any manners after all. A shiver ran up her spine. He wasn’t saying or doing anything. He was like a giant predator waiting to see what his prey would do next.
    Feeling very much like a mouse under the claw of a cat, Rachel slowly turned around and pointed her light at the floor. Scuffed leather shoes with drying grass on them were the first things she saw. She slowly lifted the beam higher, all the while trying to fight down the panic that was making her tremble.
    Damn, the man was big. She moved the light along muscled, jeans-clad legs, up over a flat stomach to a broad shirt-covered chest. She stopped and stared at that chest, nearly choking when she tried to swallow. Never had she seen such a formidable man so close up.
    With all the nerve she could pull together, Rachel finally lifted the beam of her light above his chest. The man didn’t so much as flinch. But Rachel did, all the blood draining from her face.
    Keenan Oakes wasn’t a demigod, he was a dark warrior with cold Atlantic-blue eyes pinning her immobile, looking at her from a hard, imperious face.
    Rachel snapped off her flashlight.
    If she didn’t start breathing again, she was going to faint. Which she nearly did, when the man slowly lifted one large hand, took hold of her cap, and pulled it off.
    Her heavy single braid of hair fell to her shoulder, her barrette hitting the thick oak door at her back with a loud clink, making her flinch again.
    â€œWhat are you doing in my house?” he whispered, slowly winding the end of her braid around his hand. He tugged, just slightly, just enough to threaten without actually hurting her. “Who are you?”
    Rachel couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to.
    His hand on her braid tightened. “What are you doing here?” he repeated, using her hair to tilt her head back.
    The only light in the room came from the crack under the door she was pinned against, and Rachel had a moment’s thanks that it wasn’t enough to see his expression, for surely she would have really fainted then. As it was, his low and threatening voice, the smell of his pure male strength, and the heat of his tensed muscles radiating toward her were enough to make her question what she was about to do.
    â€œWho are you?” he repeated.
    Rachel slowly shifted her weight to her weak right leg and sturdy cane. “I am really sorry,” she whispered.
    And having given that sincere apology, Rachel drove her left knee into his groin with all the force of her weight behind it.
    Keenan Oakes dropped like a stone. He fell to his knees with a groan of agony, his hand in her hair going limp and releasing her braid as he moved to cup himself.
    The clasp on her barrette popped open and followed him to the floor, Keenan Oakes landing with a heavy thud and the barrette tumbling to the floor with a loud, resounding clank.
    Rachel didn’t wait to see if he stayed down. She whirled, opened the door, and ran for her life—aware that she’d just enraged a predator who would not suffer this second assault on his manhood quite so nobly.
    Her right knee giving her hell for further