The Stranger's Secrets by Beth Williamson Read Free Book Online

half-eaten pie. “I don’t think I’m going to finish this.”
    He waited while she pushed her chair back and got to her feet. After a few unsteady moments, she seemed to get her balance and started walking. As before, Whit walked by her side at her speed.
    When they reached the stairs, Sarah looked up and grimaced. Her lips were pinched and a sheen of perspiration coated her forehead, where wisps of her wavy hair stuck to her skin. She was exhausted yet she didn’t ask for help as she started up the steps. Her right leg seemed to give her the most pain since she grunted each time she had to put her weight on it.
    By the fifth step, Whit couldn’t stand it anymore. He knew she’d fuss at him, but he didn’t care. There was no way he’d allow her to endure any more pain that evening if he could stop it.
    When he scooped her into his arms, she screeched and dropped the cane. It clattered down the stairs behind them, but Whit ignored it. He would go back for it in a few minutes.
    “What the hell are you doing?” she whispered furiously. “We’re not going to the bridal suite.”
    He chuckled at the thought. “No, that’s for sure. I’m helping you. Now just shut up and let me.”
    “You’re taking liberties, Kendrick.”
    “I’m helping. Nothing more.” Recognizing he was lying didn’t help matters much, particularly when he realized the shape of the woman in his arms was far from what he expected.
    She was tall, but curvy, with round hips and plump breasts that rested just beneath his arm. Her legs seemed to be a mile long and the right one was smaller than the left. She smelled of soap and woman, and a smidge of fury.
    “Well, you’re still carrying me without my permission.” She didn’t sound upset. In fact, she sounded as breathless as he felt.
    As he carried her to his room, he couldn’t help but remember she’d called him handsome. Damn, they were both in trouble.
     
    Sleep eluded Sarah. She lay in her bed silently cursing her overactive mind for not allowing her to rest. Her brain kept going over and over her evening with Whitman, minute by minute. She normally wasn’t enamored of anyone, least of all one day after meeting a person, but Whitman was apparently an exception to that rule.
    When she finally fell asleep, her dreams quickly took a dive into nightmares. Sarah was back in the root cellar of the house, impossible, of course, since she’d had it filled in with dirt and the door sealed shut.
    Yet there she was again, in the corner with cobwebs and spiders covering her. Then she was fighting for her life, the familiar tang of fear on her tongue and cold steel in her hand. Her heart thundered as she faced her attacker for the thousandth time.
    Yet something was different. She glanced around at the root cellar. The canned fruit and vegetables on the shelf, the potatoes and onions in sacks on the floor, even the broken cane chair were exactly the same.
    Something, however, wasn’t.
    The dream Sarah circled around the greasy-haired, gap-toothed man while he tried to take her knife away. The predictable dance between them continued, as it always had, until he kicked her in the knee and she went down hard.
    As they wrestled with the knife, another man appeared on the stairs. He’d been tall and blond, yet skinny. This time he was tall and dark haired with a hint of whiskers beneath the dirt on his face.
    Whitman Kendrick.
    Sarah woke up with a shout, the recurring nightmare fading away as she recognized her surroundings. The hotel room in the small town of Tobias, Virginia, was shabby but welcome. Her nightdress was soaked in sweat, as was her hair.
    She went over the dream in her head, this time with intent. The dream had been different because Whitman had been substituted for the blond on the steps. What did that mean? Perhaps because he was a Yankee, with a distinctive voice, she’d made him part of her living nightmare.
    It made sense, but it still bothered her. A lot. It had been a