Page 68 of The Bride Wore White

“So was Gilbert. Like father, like son. But he’s gone, too. Now you will die in a madhouse.”

“You’re the one who’s insane,” Clara gasped.

“Maybe,” Maud said. “Who knows? But the good news for me isthat no one cares enough to have me committed. I’m just the housekeeper. I’m not standing in the way of anyone’s inheritance.”

“I told you I would take care of everything in my will.”

“It will be interesting to see if you kept that promise. By the way, before I say goodbye, I’ve got a secret to tell you.”

She leaned over the bed and whispered into Clara’s ear.

“No,” Clara gasped. “No, that can’t be true.”

“It’s the truth,” Maud said. She turned away from the bed and started toward the door.

“Come back here,” Clara whispered. “You can’t do this to me, Maud. We are friends. All these years—”

“No, we have never been friends,” Maud said.

She went out into the hall and closed the door.

Clara tried to ignore the pain in her head. She had to escape the hospital room. She reached for the bed rails, intending to get to her feet. But she could not move her hands. There was something wrong. She looked at her wrists.

Horror swept through her when she saw the leather restraints.

She screamed, but she knew she managed little more than a croaking cry.

The door opened. A figure appeared, silhouetted against the hallway light.

“It’s about time you showed up,” Clara said. “Get me out of these restraints.”

But her late-night visitor did not free her. The next thing she knew, there was a heavy pillow coming down over her face, muffling her attempt to scream. She could no longer breathe.

The killer explained quite clearly why she was being murdered. Clara’s last conscious thought was that everything she had built would soon be in ruins.

Chapter 31

Prudence was still trying to deal with the exhilarating rush of sensation igniting her senses when Jack came down on top of her, crushing her gently into the luxurious bedding. She reached up to wrap her arms tightly around him and silently vowed to savor every second, every element, every aspect of the experience—right up to the point where the panic attack kicked in.

“Prudence,” Jack said against her mouth.

Her name sounded as if it had been dredged up from the bottom of a very dark pool. It was a question, a plea, and a statement of fact.

“Yes,” she said.

He did not try to talk after that. Neither did she, because she knew they had moved too far beyond the safe zone. Retreat was no longer an option. She was committed, not for the future but for right up until the moment when her nerves shattered.

When he moved his mouth down her throat to her breasts, she clenched her fingers into the sleek muscles of his shoulders. His body was furnace hot. Knowing that he wanted her with suchfierce intensity filled her with an intoxicating sense of her own power.

Everything about him fascinated and excited—the sleek power in his shoulders, his granite-hard erection. But most of all it was the raw, elemental energy resonating between them that dazzled and seduced her senses. It was all so different from her wedding night.

At some point he rolled away from her long enough to grab the overnight kit off the nightstand. She watched him take out a small tin and sheathe himself in a condom.

He rolled back and gathered her close. “They really do have first-class service here at the Burning Cove Hotel.”

“Yes, they do,” she said.

She levered herself up on one elbow, leaned over him, and kissed him. And then she kissed his scars. He tensed. She ignored his reaction and moved her lips to his throat. He groaned. Another kind of tension replaced the flash of uncertainty. His warm hand slipped down her back to her hip. His fingers clenched gently. She continued her exploration.

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