Melora Merriweather is searching for a fellow witch to protect her from a scheming uncle with plans of marriage. When her carriage overturns on her journey, she is rescued by a mysterious man whom she learns is the very person she seeks. But, he’s not the witch she thought he was…
Sebastian Collins should have left for London days ago. Now a snowstorm has trapped him with a woman who has come seeking protection, a woman who intrigues him like no other. And with each passing hour, his hunger for her grows…hunger for her kiss, her caress, and her blood.
“You are Sebastian Collins? Of Caldwell House?” she asked. Had she made some horrible mistake? Who knew how old this letter might be? There had been no date written on any of them. Could this have come from a previous owner of the single address she had managed to discover leading her here? But, no, it could not be possible. Her dreams never misled her.
“Indeed, I am,” he answered, relieving her fears. He paused briefly, and then continued, “But there is no Mrs. Collins.”
Comprehension dawned. The blush of embarrassment and dread crept up her neck. To her surprise, Mr. Collins stiffened in agitation.
“I-I am truly sorry,” she stated, suddenly understanding his reaction. At least, now it made sense why Mrs. Collins never entered her dreams. “I had not realized she had passed. I apologize for the grief I have surely inflicted on you.”
“No, no,” he said, with a shake of his head. He appeared to have difficulty speaking for a moment until at last, with a deep breath, he reclaimed his composure. Still, he kept his eyes cast down, toward the fire. “You fail to understand. I have never married.”
Melora stared at him. Confused, she looked again at the letter in her hand. “But the letters…?”
This time, his head snapped up, and he looked in her direction. She inhaled sharply at the sight of his light blue eyes staring at her. Into her. Through her. Sharp. Piercing. As if he searched her soul for the answers to his questions.
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