twilight fantasies [070-4.0]
By: maggie shayne
Synopsis:
Who are
you?
Tamara whispered to the dark stranger who held her in his arms.
“You don’t know?
His voice sent another surge of recognition coursing through her.
I feel I do, but.
She felt as if some great void within her had suddenly been filled
simply by the sight of this man.
Words swirled and eddied in her mind, absurd words.
Thank God you’ve come back.
I’ve missed you so.
Please don’t leave me again.
Tears filled her eyes, and she wanted to turn away so he wouldn’t see
them.
He was staring so intensely, and the feeling that he could somehow see
inside her mind struck her with an impossible certainty.
She wanted to turn and run away.
And she wanted him to hold her forever.
“Twilight Phantasies is an absolutely compelling read, a dark romance
full of sensual obsession, pure love and ultimate evil where you least
expect it.
Maggie Shayne is a wonderful writer—don’t miss her.
—Award-winning author Anne Stuart Dear Reader Welcome to Intrigue”!
This month kicks off with a fabulous story from favourite author Gayle
Wilson, Never Let Her Go. Undercover agent Nick Deandro has lost his
memory, and with it all knowledge of the woman he once loved including
the fact that she’s carrying his baby! And in Remember Me, Cowboy,
Slate Walker blacked out during a bank raid and was then falsely
accused of the crime. Now he’s determined to find out what really
happened.
Our exciting Lost & Found series continues this month with A Father for
Her Baby.
Kit Bannack and her child are on the run from a murderer until sexy
Luke St.
John kidnaps them for safe-keeping!
And Twilight Phantasies is the first thrilling tale in a new trilogy by
top author Maggie Shayne watch out for the second book in October.
Finally, this month look in the shops for the first book in our
fantastic MONTANA series: Rogue Stallion by Diana Palmer.
Happy reading The Editors Twilight Phantasies MAGGIE SHAYNE
gSILHOUETTE
INTRIGUE DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?
If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was
reported unsold and destroyed by a retailer.
Neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this
book.
__ All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names.
They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or In
part in any form.
This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises
II
B.
V.
The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval
system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the
publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or
cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.
Silhouette and Colophon are registered trademarks of Harlequin Books
S.
A.
, used under licence.
First published in Great Britain 1999 Silhouette Books, Eton House,
18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR Margaret Benson 1993
ISBN 0373 27018 6 469909
Printed and bound in Spain by Litogrqfia Roses S.
A.
, Barcelona MAGGIE SHAYNE is a best-selling author whom Romantic
Times magazine calls ‘brilliantly inventive.
Maggie has won numerous awards including a Romantic Times Career
Achievement Award.
A three-time finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious
RITA Award, Maggie also writes mainstream contemporary fantasy.
In her spare time Maggie enjoys collecting gemstones, reading tarot
cards, hanging out on the Genie computer network and spending time
outdoors.
She lives in a rural town in central New York State with her husband.
Rick, five beautiful daughters and a bulldog named Wrinkles.
Other novels by Maggie Shayne Silhouette Sensation Forgotten Vows.
Forever, Dad The Littlest Cowboy The Baddest Virgin in Texas Badlands
Bad Boy The Husband She Couldn’t Remember The Baddest Bride in Texas
Strangers in the Night
“Beyond Twilight’ Fortune’s Children A Husband in Time The Brand
Family Series To the real ‘hearts’ of New York, the members ofCNYRW.
And to the young blond man on the balcony high above Rue Royale.
PROLOGUE Desires and Adorations, Winged Persuasions and veiled
Destinies, Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations Of hopes
and fears, and twilight Phantasies; And Sorrow, with her family of
Sighs, And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam Of her own
dying smile instead of eyes, Came in slow pomp.
—Percy Bysshe Shelley March 20, 1793 He stub of a tallow candle
balanced on a ledge of cold stone, its flame casting odd, lively
shadows.
The smell of burning tallow wasn’t a pleasant one, but far more
pleasant than the other aromas hanging heavily all around him.
Damp, musty air.
Thick green fungus growing over roughhewn stone walls.
Rat droppings.
Filthy human bodies.
Until tonight, Eric had been careful to conserve the tallow, well aware
he’d be allowed no more.
Tonight there was no need.
At dawn he’d face the guillotine.
Eric closed his eyes against the dancing shadows that seemed to mock
him, and drew his knees closer to his chest.
At the far end of the cell a man coughed in awful spasms.
Closer, someone moaned and turned in his sleep.
Only Eric sat awake this night.
The others would face death, as well, but not tomorrow.
He wondered again whether his father had suffered this way in the hours
before his appointed time.
He wondered whether his mother and younger sister, Jaqueline, had made
it across the Channel to safety.
He’d held the bloodthirsty peasants off as long as he’d been able.
If the women were safe he’d consider it well worth the sacrifice of his
own pathetic life.
He’d never been quite like other people, anyway.
Always considered odd.
In his own estimation he would not be greatly missed.
His thirty five years had been spent, for the most part, alone.
His stomach convulsed and he bent lower, suppressing a groan.
Neither food nor drink had passed his lips in three days.
The swill they provided here would kill him more quickly than
starvation.
Perhaps he’d die before they could behead him.
The thought of depriving the bastards of their barbaric entertainment
brought a painful upward curve to his parched lips.
The cell door opened with a great groan, but Eric did not look up.
He’d learned better than to draw attention to himself when the guards
came looking for a bit of sport.
But it wasn’t a familiar voice he heard, and it was far too civilized
to belong to one of those illiterate pigs.
“Leave us! I’ll call when I’ve finished here.”
The tone held authority that commanded obedience.
The door closed with a bang, and still Eric didn’t move.
Footsteps came nearer and stopped.
“Come, Marquand, I haven’t all night.”
He tried to swallow, but felt only dry sand in his throat.
He lifted his face slowly.
The man before him smiled, absently stroking the elaborately knotted
silk cravat at his throat.
The candlelight made his black hair gleam like a raven’s wing, but his
eyes glowed even darker.
“Who are you?”
Eric managed.
Speaking hurt his throat after so many days without uttering a word, or
downing a drop.
“I am Roland. I’ve come to help you, Eric. Get to your feet. There
isn’t much time.”
“Monsieur, if this is a prank” — “I assure you, it is no prank.”
He reached to grasp Eric’s upper arm, and with a tug that seemed to
cost him minimal effort at best, he jerked Eric to his feet.
“You—you don’t even know me. Why would a stranger wish to help me
now?
“Twould be a risk to your own freedom.
Besides, there is naught to be done.
My sentence is passed.
I die on the morrow.
Keep your head, friend.
Leave here now.
” The man called Roland listened to Eric’s hoarse speech, then nodded
slowly.
“Yes, you are a worthy one, aren’t you? Speak to me no more, lad. I
can see it pains you.
You’d do better to listen.
I do know you.
I’ve known you from the time you drew your first breath.
” Eric gasped and took a step away from the man.
A sense of familiarity niggled at his brain.
He fumbled for the candle without taking his eyes from Roland, and when
he gripped it, he held it up.
“What you say is quite impossible, monsieur. Surely you have mistaken
me for someone else.”
He blinked in the flickering light, still unable to place the man in
his memory.
Roland sighed as if in frustration, and blocked the candlelight from
his face with one hand.
“Get that thing out of my face, man. I tell you I know you. I tell
you I’ve come to help and yet you argue. Can it be you are eager to
have your head in a basket?”
Eric moved the candle away, and Roland lowered the hand and faced him
again.
“In your fourth year you fell into the Channel. Nearly drowned,
Eric.
Have you no memory of the man who pulled you, dripping, from the cold
water?
The eve of your tenth birthday celebration you were nearly flattened by
a runaway carriage.
Do you not recall the man who yanked you from the path of those
hooves?
” The truth of the man’s words hit Eric like a blow, and he flinched.
The face so white it appeared chalked, the eyes so black one couldn’t
see where the iris ended and the pupil began—it was the face of the
man who’d been there at both those times, he realized, though he wished
to deny it.
Something about the man struck him afraid.
“You mustn’t fear me, Eric Marquand. I am your friend.
You must believe that.
” The dark gaze bored into Eric as the man spoke in a tone that was
oddly hypnotic.
Eric felt himself relax.
“I believe, and I am grateful. But a friend is of little use to me
now.
I know not even the number of hours left me.
Is it full dark yet?
” “It is, lad, else I could not be here. But time is short, dawn comes
soon. It took longer than I anticipated to bribe the guards to allow
me this visit. If you want to live, you must trust me and do as I say
without question.”
He paused, arching his brows and awaiting a response.
Eric only nodded, unable to think for the confusion in his brain.
“Good, then,” Roland said.
“Now, remove the cravat.”
Eric worked at the ragged, dirty linen with leaden fingers.
“Tell me what you plan, monsieur.”
“I plan to see to it that you do not die,” he said simply, as if it
were already done.
“I fear no one can prevent tomorrow’s fate.”
Eric finally loosed the knot and slid the cravat from his neck.
“You will not die, Eric. Tomorrow, or any other day.
Come here.
” Eric’s feet seemed to become one with the floor.
He couldn’t have stepped forward had he wanted to.
His eyes widened and he felt his throat tighten.
“I know your fear, man, but think!
Am I more fearsome than the guillotine!
” He shouted it, and Eric stiffened and looked around him, but not one
body stirred.
“Why—why don’t they wake?”
Roland came forward then, gripping his shoulders.
“I don’t understand. Why don’t they wake?”
Eric asked again.
The guard pounded on the door.
“Time’s up!”
“Five minutes more!”
Roland’s voice boomed, nearly, Eric thought, rattling the walls.
“I’ll make it worth your while, man! Now go!”
Eric heard the guard grumble, and then his footsteps shuffle away from
the door as he called,
“Two minutes, then. No more.”
“Blast it, lad. It has to be done. Forgive me for not finding a way
to make it less frightening!”
With those words Roland pulled Eric to him with unnatural strength.
He pressed Eric’s head back with the flat of one hand, and even as Eric
struggled to free himself Roland’s teeth sank into his throat.
When he opened his mouth to release a scream of unbridled horror,
something wet sealed his lips.
It sickened him when he understood that it was a wrist, gashed open and
pulsing blood.
Roland forced the severed vein to him and Eric had no choice but to
swallow the vile fluid that filled his mouth.
Vile?
No.
But warm and salty.
With the first swallow came the shocking realization that he wanted
more.
What was happening to him?
Had he lost his sanity?
Yes!
/>
He must have, for here he was, allowing another man’s blood to assuage
his painful hunger, his endless thirst.
He didn’t even cower when the word rushed through his brain like a
chilling breeze.
Vampire.
Fear filled his heart even as roland’s blood filled his body.
He felt himself weakening, sinking into a dark abyss from which he
wanted no escape.
It was a far better death than the one the dawn would bring.
The blood drugged him, and Roland stepped away.
Eric couldn’t stand upright.
He felt emptied of everything in him, and he sank to the floor.
He didn’t feel the impact.
His head floated somewhere above him and his skin pricked with a
million invisible needles.
“Wh-what have you d-done to me?”
He had to force the words out, and they slurred together as if he were
drunk.
He couldn’t feel his tongue anymore.
“Sleep, my son. When next you wake you will be free of this cell. I
promise you that. Sleep.”
Eric fought to keep his eyes from closing, but they did.
Vaguely he felt cold hands replacing his soiled cravat.
Then he heard Roland pound on the door and call for the guard.
“He’ll not live long enough for his execution, I fear.”
Roland’s voice seemed to come from far away.
“The hell, you say! He was fine ” “Look for yourself, man. See how he
lies there? Dead before the dawn, I’ll wager. I’ll send a coach for
the body.
See to it, will you?
” “For a price, sir.”
“Here, then. And there will be more to follow, if you do it precisely
as I say.”
“Well, now, if he dies, like you say, I’ll see he gets in your coach.
But if not, I’ll be here to see he keeps his other appointment. Either
way he ends up the same. In the ground, eh, mister?”
Harsh laughter filled the cell and the door slammed.
CHAPTER ONE In the dream she was running.
From something, toward something.
Someone.
She plunged through dense forest woven with vines and brambles that
clawed at her legs, snared her, pulled her back.
Swirls of smoky mist writhed, serpent like, around her calves.
She couldn’t even see where her feet touched the ground.
All the while she kept calling for him, but, as always, when she woke
she couldn’t remember his name.
Jet hair stuck to her face, glued there by tears and perspiration.
