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EXCERPT
FROM OUT OF HER DREAMS
Kate stepped out of the cupola at the top of the stairs, onto a roof
drenched in moonlight. The breeze off the lake was cool
but the view was worth the slight chill. As Barrister
House sat on a little point of land, in three directions
she saw nothing through the light rising mist but an
expanse of gleaming, white-tipped, moonlit waves.
A moon path on the water was supposed to be romantic. Tonight, it was a
trifle eerie.
She hugged her robe about her. Uneasily, she glanced around the empty roof.
The moon was bright enough to cast sharp shadows. The
narrow benches someone had built around the perimeter of
the widow’s walk stood out in stark outline and the
gargoyle on the near corner of the ironwork fencing seemed
to glare at her. She wished she could share this moment
with someone she cared about.
She had never been more conscious of how alone she was. With the exception
of Phoebe, she had no one. Except in her dreams.
This was ridiculous. She loved her life, her independence. She especially
loved her new house.
She perched on one of the benches and drank in the strange beauty of the
black and silver night. The air was damp and smelled of
mysterious reaches of dark water. The silence was heavy.
She had to strain to hear the whispering waves on the
sandy beach at the bottom of the bluffs. Not a night bird,
not a cricket made a sound.
Someone coughed.
Startled, she whirled around in the direction of the sound. Suddenly, the
privacy of her widow’s walk was no longer delightful.
She peered into the darkness beside the cylindrical wooden
structure that sheltered the top of the staircase.
There! She caught a slight movement.
A large, dark figure lounged against the corner of the bench. There’d been
no one in that corner a few seconds ago!
The moon behind him cast his face in deep shadow and illuminated long, bare
legs stretched out in front of him and a muscular, bare
arm resting casually on the iron railing. Lord! Was the
man naked? Naked or not he was closer to the top of the
stairs than she was.
Questions tumbled over each other in her mind as she edged towards the only
exit from the roof. How had this man reached the top of
the tower? The only way was up through her bedroom. And
the door to the widow’s walk had still been latched from
the inside. She distinctly remembered having to struggle a
bit with the bolt.
Why wasn’t she screaming for help or trying to get to a phone to call 911?
Oddly, although the man’s lack of clothing disturbed
her, it didn’t terrify her. Was it his seemingly
laid-back, relaxed posture that made him less threatening?
Or she was dreaming again? She stifled a nervous giggle.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
In a flash, the man was on his feet. He was taller and more muscular than
he’d seemed at first glance. He took a step towards her.
Now, she was terrified! She wished she’d got around to taking the
self-defense courses she’d put off while she lived in
Toronto. All she could remember was she’d been told you
could stab at an attacker’s eyes with your car keys.
That didn’t help. Her keys were in the bedroom. With her
telephone and the revolver Phoebe had given her to keep in
the drawer of her bedside table.
She took a tentative step in the direction of the only exit.
The tall, broad-shouldered man stood between her and the door to the stairs.
She had nowhere to run. Frantically, she looked down at
the garden below her. No good. It was at least thirty feet
to the ground.
“You can see me!” he said slowly. He sounded amazed, not threatening.
His deep voice sounded strangely familiar.
With his back to the moonlight, she couldn’t see his face but when he took
another step towards her, she could see clearly that he
wasn’t naked. He wore some kind of long, pale,
tight-fitting shorts.
“Stay where you are.” She was surprised how normal her voice sounded.
The man stiffened. His eyes widened.
“Caitlin!” he breathed. “You’ve come back.”
Heaven help her! It was Jake.
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