Clandestine Read Online Free

trunk. “Perhaps Rachel seemed only garrulous and silly to you, but she wrote me a long letter all about it. A letter full of joy and…and triumph! Did she in fact make so little impression on you?”
    â€œIt would certainly seem so.” A shadow cloaked his expression, though his gaze remained fixed on her face. “But none of this explains why you think I will help you now.”
    â€œRachel said you were ineffably kind.” Sarah choked back her rush of anxiety and rage, and glanced down at the pile of books on the trunk. “She said you made her laugh.”
    â€œDid I? I had forgotten. But our situations are not quite equivalent in this, are they, Mrs. Callaway? You are the suppliant. I am the one being importuned.”
    â€œYes.” Feeling stiff and awkward, she picked up a volume at random. The prospect of help was sifting away like dry sand through clenched fingers. “I didn’t mean to harangue you, Mr. Devoran. I’m sorry.”
    â€œNot at all!” He smiled with a kind of remote courtesy. “You’re understandably distressed about your cousin’s disappearance. But aren’t you at all concerned about the impropriety of approaching a stranger like this?”
    â€œI’m a widow, sir, not a young girl. With Rachel’s happiness and possibly her safety at stake, I have very little choice.”
    He remained silent for a moment, his expression closed, contained, as if he ruthlessly reined in his natural male restlessness.
    â€œSo the choices, it would seem, are all mine,” he said at last.
    The leather cover in her hand was embossed in gilt. The gold outline of a bullheaded monster glowered up at her from one corner.
    â€œTheseus chose to enter the Labyrinth to face down the Minotaur,” she said. “He didn’t have to do so. He volunteered.”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    Embarrassment burned up her neck. She set down the book and stood up. “I’m sorry. But you mentioned the Furies, sir.”
    Guy Devoran laughed. “And so invited a deluge of random Greek associations?” He stepped closer to glance down at the cover. “Where are you staying, ma’am?”
    â€œBrockton’s Hotel. It’s not far from here.”
    â€œYes, I know it.”
    She almost grasped his arm. “Then you will help me?”
    His eyes met hers. Sarah gazed back into a heart of black flame.
    A hot disturbance eddied through her veins, a quickening, like an onrushing ocean wave. She felt suddenly light-headed, as if he had mesmerized her, as if loose strands of her hair sang faraway songs of enchantment.
    A bell rang.
    Voices echoed from the outer shop.
    The spun-sugar threads of the spell snapped in two. Though her heart still danced a frenzied fandango, Sarah dropped her hand and stepped back.
    He had already looked away toward the sound. “If secrecy is so essential, you must leave right now,” he said quietly. “Which room?”
    â€œRoom?”
    Guy Devoran glanced back at her and smiled. “At Brockton’s: a modest but decent establishment, as recommended by your cousin, suitable for young ladies traveling alone.”
    â€œThe last one in the north hallway at the top.”
    He turned away to pull down a thick tome. He began to study it, almost as if he were no longer aware of her.
    â€œThen I suggest that you return there,” he said, “while I think about it.”
    She was dismissed. The loss of that vibrant attention stabbed like a knife.
    With her blood on fire, Sarah slipped into the main part of the bookstore. An elderly couple was talking to the man at the counter. Using the bookshelves as a shield, she hurried to the other entrance and stepped out into the street.
    It was raining. She had left her umbrella at the hotel. For no reason she could fathom, hot tears began to burn down her cheeks.

    G UY closed the book with a thud. He thrust it back on the shelf, then