Witching Hour by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online

said slowly. 'She was very
    beautiful, wasn't she? May I ask why she's got up like a medieval
    princess?'
    'There was some sort of Arthurian pageant going on, and she was
    playing the part of Morgan le Fay.' She was reluctant to complete
    the story, but she didn't want him to probe either, so she went on
    doggedly, 'That was where Grandfather saw her, and he fell in love
    with her at first sight. After they were married, he insisted on
    having her portrait painted in her pageant costume. They had no
    daughters, only one son—my father, and he made him promise
    that if he had a daughter he would call her Morgana.'
    'And here you are.'
    'Yes,' she said tightly, 'here I am. Grandfather was still alive when
    I was born, and he was so delighted to have the little girl he'd
    wanted at last.'
    'Having no idea, of course, that you'd be an only child. Quite one
    of life's little ironies.'
    'You could put it like that.' She bit her lip hard. 'Do you want
    another instalment of family history, or shall we look at the rest of
    the bedrooms? There are the attics as well.'
    'I think the attics will have to be saved, along with the stables for
    my next visit,' he said, glancing at his watch. 'I must go. Purely as
    a matter of interest, you understand, which room was I to have
    been given?'
    'We'd put you in the East Wing,' she mumbled.
    Lyall lifted a sardonic brow. 'I understood all guests were allowed
    a choice.'
    Morgana shrugged again. 'The same rule would have applied.' She
    took a deep breath, forcing the words to her lips. 'After all, they're
    all your rooms—now.'
    'Yes, they are, aren't they?' he said silkily. 'It's just as well I
    decided to stay in Truro instead. I don't think you'd have like my
    choice, Morgan le Fay.'
    For a moment she looked at him uncomprehendingly, then as
    realisation dawned, an angry flush invaded her cheeks.
    'That wouldn't matter,' she said untruthfully. 'As I shall have to
    move out eventually anyway, it may as well be sooner than later.'
    He laughed, his eyes going over her in one swift, sensuous
    appraisal. 'Who said anything about moving out?'
    Her flush deepened. 'How dare you?' she stormed.
    'Oh, I dare,' he said. 'When you get to know me better, you'll be
    amazed how much I dare.'
    'I haven't the slightest wish to know you better. I only wish I'd
    never had to meet you at all.'
    'I gathered that when I heard you casting your spell on the moor,'
    he said mockingly. 'Also when I overheard you bemoaning the fact
    that you had to share a roof with me. I enjoy a challenge, and it
    occurred to me that it might be amusing to persuade you to share
    far more than just my roof.'
    'You're out of your mind,' she said bitingly. 'Or perhaps your
    unexpected inheritance has gone to your head. It's the house and its
    contents which belong to you, I don't.'
    He said very gently, 'But you will, Morgan le Fay. You will.
    Because in spite of your little spells and maledictions, I'm here,
    and I intend to stay.'
    He took one quick stride forward and pulled her into his arms, his
    mouth stifling her instinctive cry of protest on her lips. There was
    no mercy in his kiss, nothing exploratory or tentative, just an
    immediate hungry demand, which, against her will, against all her
    instincts aroused an eventual, shaming response. And at once he
    let her go, as if her capitulation had been all he'd been waiting for.
    Morgana shrank back against the wall, her hand going up to cover
    her bruised mouth, too furious to speak, too shocked to know what
    to say. And the worst of it was that Lyall was smiling at her.
    'You bastard!' she choked eventually.
    'From what you tell me, I come from a long line of them,' he said
    coolly. 'But I'm glad to know that you're not the downtrodden sort.
    I'll see you tomorrow, Morgana.'
    'I'll see you in hell!' she raged.
    His mouth twisted. 'Hell's only the flip side of Paradise.
    Sometimes it's hard to differentiate between the two, as you may
    find, my little witch.'
    She whirled past him,