The Witch's Thief Read Online Free Page A

memorable kiss of her existence. The next day, when she woke, she learned of his sudden departure. There had been no word from him until several days later when a letter was sent to Mrs. Prescott stating he had been called to London. A few weeks after, another letter stated his intentions to travel abroad.
    He directed all of his correspondence to his aunt, never once mentioned Julia or inquired about her whereabouts. Any hopes Julia had entertained of a union between them were dashed within months when she came to realize that he was not returning home.
    Until now...
    Julia watched his eyes slowly open.
    He blinked.
    Then his gaze swept the room before fixing on her. Her heart leapt into her throat as his gaze settled on her, taking in her face, her clothes, her presence at his side. Her fingers tightened around her skirts, unwilling to move any other part of her body. Not able yet to believe her eyes, she dared not move nor make a sound for fear this image of Basil might vanish forever. Even Parker’s presence tonight might be explained away as part of a bizarre dream.
    Basil said nothing. He stared. She saw the puzzlement in his eyes. The way his brow crinkled slightly. After several moments, he carefully licked his lips.
    “I’m dreaming.” His voice was husky, rough from sleep. It sounded sweet to her ears. She smiled, surprised his thoughts ran the same path as her own.
    “No,” she said with a small shake of her head. She took a breath when she realized she’d been holding it while he silently observed her. She held her hands tight in her lap, yearning to reach out to touch him, but frightened by his response.
    “Then I’m dead.”
    “Not at all.”
    “Julia?” he whispered. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing at the sound of his voice speaking her name in such a breathy whisper, almost reverently.
    She nodded, hating the sensation of tears forming beneath her eyelids.
    “Where am I?”
    “Merriweather Manor,” she replied.
    “Aunt Petunia?”
    “Parker is bringing her down.”
    His head jerked up, and his gaze darted around once more as if only now noticing he lay prone on the floor. He made a move to sit up. Julia put her hands on his chest, gently pushing him back down. He struggled, but did not seem to have the necessary strength to push her away. He was weak, she realized. But, from what?
    “Do not move,” she said. “I found you unconscious in the hall. Mrs. Prescott will see to you.”
    “No,” he said, and his eyes widened in sudden panic. “Help me up.”
    “I do not think it wise. It seems you are hurt in some way.”
    “Please,” he said, and his fingers grasped her hand. Her breath left her lungs at the sensation of his warm hand wrapping around her delicate one. “Help me up. I cannot allow her to see me like this.”
    His gaze implored her. A shiver passed over her skin. The depth of his desperation sank into her, convincing her that she needed to allow him to retain his dignity. Being discovered prone on the floor by his elderly aunt would bring no one satisfaction.
    “Here,” Julia said and reached down to grasp his shoulder. “You must help me.”
    He struggled to stand with her there to steady him. Together they moved to the nearest chair, where he crumpled into the seat, clearly exhausted from his ordeal. She sank to the stool by his feet.
    “What’s happened? Are you injured?”
    “No,” he said, shaking his head.
    Several deep breaths later, he looked down at her solemn face, studying her, tracing her each feature with his gaze. She saw some emotion there, something she could no longer identify.
    He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Do you know me?”
    Julia nodded, and fought the tears that threatened to surge beneath her eyelids. It occurred to her that although she knew this man’s past, she did not know him now. He was a stranger to her. That knowledge hurt her, more than she ever thought possible.
    “I know who you were,” she answered. Her trembling voice