The Third Heiress by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

sleep.
    Her thoughts tormented her. And she missed Hal so badly that it hurt in every fiber of her being.
    But perhaps the worst part was staring at the night-darkened ceiling, feeling so utterly alone—being so utterly alone—once again.
    Jill turned on the bedside lamp. She could beg God from here to eternity, but Hal was dead, and nothing could ever change that fact. But somehow, she would survive—just as she had survived the loss of her parents twenty-three years ago. But this time the loss was different. This time she would cling to her memories. She did not want to ever forget, even if it meant living with anguish for the rest of her life. The only thing she had to do now, for her own sanity, was lay to rest her confusion and doubts. For that was a cross she just could not bear.
    Abruptly Jill stood up. She could not sleep, and lying restless in bed would make her crazy, with her thoughts seesawing back and forth between her worst fears and her now unattainable hopes and dreams. She needed to do something, she needed to distract herself, for she dreaded being alone for the rest of the night.
    Jill walked over to a television on a nightstand and snapped it on. She rubbed her forehead tiredly. British television with its odd humor did not interest her. What she really needed was a sleeping pill or two, which she did not have. Barring that, she could use a good stiff drink. A martini or two would do, she thought almost savagely.
    Hadn’t she seen a bar cart in the salon where she had fainted?
    Jill glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was a quarter to twelve. She had arrived at seven-thirty P.M. By now, the family must be well asleep. She crossed the room, pulling on a pair of jeans, for she’d been sleeping in her T-shirt and panties. She refused to consider what would happen if she were caught wandering about the house unescorted. She did not think anyone would look kindly upon the act. She knew from Hal that Lauren and Alex did not live with the family. If she stumbled across anyone, it would be that bastard Thomas. But that was too bad. She would stand up to him if he dared to confront her the way he had earlier that day. She owed the Sheldons nothing. She was alone again, and if she did not take care of herself now, no one else would.
    Jill made it to the living room without seeing a soul and poured herself a scotch, which she did not usually drink and did not even like, and started back up the stairs. But on the second-floor landing she paused, sipping the neat drink. It warmed her instantly, and even better, it dulled the grief and pain and confusion immediately. Hal’s bedroom, she knew, was on this floor. He had often told her how he loved the light from his bedroom facing east on the second floor.
    How she wished she could go to his room and wander among his things. On the other hand, she knew his family would be furious if she did so without permission.
    But Hal wouldn’t mind. Jill could almost feel him smiling at her—encouraging her.
    And she didn’t give a damn about the Sheldons, not after the way they had treated her that evening.
    Scotch in hand, Jill started down the hall, trying to be as soundless as possible. She paused at a door, leaning her ear against it. When she heard nothing, she knocked very softly. There was still no answer.
    Her heart racing wildly now, Jill turned the knob and pushed the door open. Shadows greeted her. She hit a wall switch.
    A bedroom that had not been used in years greeted her, and Jill saw nothing to even remotely suggest that it belonged to a boy, much less Hal. She turned off the light, quickly backing out and closing the door. Her heart continued to thunder in her own ears.
    She continued down the hall, finishing the scotch, finding three more unoccupied rooms, her pulse rampaging inside of her chest. She was beginning to question the wisdom of what she was doing, yet the scotch had given her courage. On her fifth try, she knew she had stumbled onto his