Gideon, Robin - Desire of the Phantom [Ecstasy in the Old West] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read Online Free Page B

though she could not see it, she was certain he was garbed all in black.
    Pamela had not really believed the Midnight Phantom existed. She’d thought him a story created by bored journalists who had nothing better to write about and who were hoping to increase newspaper circulation. Now, seeing him, she could understand how the popular legend had taken the shape it had.
    No wonder he was called the Midnight Phantom. Legend had it he could transform himself into smoke and then disappear into the night without leaving a trace or making a sound.
    She turned away from him, her heart now beating faster than ever. The Midnight Phantom existed! He held her, at this very moment, captive, and all Pamela could think about was whether the greatest threat to her safety was in front of her in the form of Jonathon Darwell and the evil he represented or behind her in the form of the mysterious Midnight Phantom.
    Now that she knew who held her in his arms, Pamela felt his touch even more acutely than before. The strength of Phantom had become fused with another element—the mys tery of his manliness. An odd sensation passed through Pamela as she reflected on the power that compelled this man to do things even the bravest of men did not dare.
    Very gently, Pamela touched the back of Phantom’s hand, the one covering her mouth. The hand did not move.
    “You mustn’t make a sound,” Phantom whispered, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “Promise me that.”
    She nodded. She would bide her time.
    The hand covering her mouth released its pressure, hesitated a moment, then moved lower to rest very lightly upon her shoulder. But Pamela knew he could silence her again in a heartbeat if he wanted to.
    The sensation of bondage Pamela felt, trapped between dangerous men was overwhelming, infuriating, and slightly erotic. She wanted to strike out, to attack these men who frightened her, but to do that would only put her in even greater jeopardy.
    “I won’t hurt you,” Phantom whispered. “But you must remain very quiet. Jail cells are smelly, vile places, and I don’t intend on spending any time in them.”
    Pamela could feel his lips against her ear, and she won dered if he was leaning into her a little more than he ab solutely had to, letting them caress her ear more than was necessary. She felt his pelvis against the cheeks of her bottom and made very sure she did not rub against him in any fashion that could be construed as sensual.
    Could she draw the Colt from its holster before he could stop her?
    Pamela had heard the stories of Phantom being lightning quick on the draw, but she’d really never given anything concerned with the Midnight Phantom credence. Whenever a so-called bad man surfaced in Whitetail Creek, the gossipmong ers always made the scoundrel out to be the fastest gun anyone had ever seen. And, almost without exception, there wasn’t a shred of truth to the story.
    Bad men, criminals of one stripe or another, tended to be cowardly, Pamela believed. She’d heard enough stories of senseless murders, of violence, of rape, for her to know that criminals were not the types of men who fought face- to-face. They ambushed their prey, just as Phantom had si lently ambushed her, grabbing her from behind.
    The difference was he had grabbed her so she would not be caught by Jonathon Darwell’s untimely, unexpected entrance into his own bedroom. But if his intention had been to save her, why hadn’t he released her? Why was he still holding her so close that she could feel the heat of his body, his great strength, the life force that coursed through his veins?
    In the bedroom, Jonathon Darwell laughed, drawing Pamela’s attention.
    “You’re a wicked one,” Darwell said to Judge Robert Dahlmann. “I never knew you had that kind of mind.”
    The judge leaned back on the sofa, smiling coyly. He sipped the cognac and glanced at the businessman, Andy Fields. “When Andy found out Mexicans had stolen the horses, it