Darkness In The Flames by Sahara Kelly Page A

release of sexual passion—something unheard of for her. She’d had the odd dream, known an unexplained longing or two in her youth, and imagined that lovemaking might involve something stirring to the heart—such imaginings being quickly shattered with her marriage to Matthew Byerly.
    Sex had revealed itself to be uncomfortable, hurried, uneventful and—towards the end of their union—an ordeal.
    After Matthew’s death, sex had become a threat held over her head by Arthur Byerly, Matthew’s cousin. Large and bullying, Arthur was determined to wed and bed Katherine, using whatever means lay available to him to achieve his goal.
    He’d held the purse strings thanks to an appallingly awful legal wrangle over Matthew’s will, leaving Katherine exactly where he wanted her—at his mercy. He’d been unwilling to permit her the luxury of a companion, only allowing it when he realized he could not stay under her roof with her unless one was present.
    Jessie had been the fourth such woman, the first three being conscious of their duties as protectors to Widow Byerly and rapidly dismissed by Arthur. Jessie had gone one step further and actively encouraged Katherine to get the hell out of Byerly Grange and away from the greedily lascivious Arthur.
    She’d been the right person at the right time, and Katherine’s lips twisted bitterly every time she remembered the payment Jessie had received.
    It should have been her. It should have been Katherine lying still and cold on the ground of Southern England, not the vibrantly alive Jessie.  Death would have brought peace to Katherine, and freedom. Or at least she imagined it would. Certainly it would have ended the monotonous routine of repelling Arthur, of insisting she would not wed, and finally barring her door each night with a large piece of furniture.
    Even now she could hear the screech of wood on wood as she dragged her bureau into place. She should never have had to experience such horrors. Nor should she have had to experience Arthur’s ceaseless lust for her and his clumsy efforts to fondle her. She wondered if her rescuers knew that some of the bruises on her body were not from her accident, but from Arthur’s rough handling.
    No, there was little left for Katherine Edgeworth Byerly to live for. Marriage to Arthur was an utter and complete impossibility and her financial situation would not permit her to live alone.
    Up until a few hours ago, Katherine would probably have gone willingly to her grave. Now…now there was something else to consider. Something that had awoken inside her as she dreamed.
    Passion . The promise that her body could respond to the touch of a man—could consume her with a blaze the likes of which was beyond her imaginings.
    She lifted her hand to her neck, recalling the incredible sensation that had streaked through her like lightning when he’d broken her skin and fed on her blood.
    Where the devil had that come from? Was she creating monsters in her mind that were feeding on her fears and insecurities?  It was surprising enough that she had indulged in the most wanton sexual fantasy, but when she added in the final culmination—her willing surrender of her body’s fluids—Katherine all but lost her breath.
    He’d seemed so real. So familiar. A man who she barely knew, one who she could probably dislike most strongly thanks to his arrogance, and she’d bared herself before him, called upon him to ravish her body and spread her legs wide for his taking.
    And felt a rush of need, of desire, that had astounded her even while it heated her flesh. Involuntarily her thighs parted beneath the sheets and she blushed. Really, this man had opened something within her she’d not suspected was there. She was wet with her own liquids, slick and sticky moisture coating her skin.
    It was time to move, to do something about this situation. To make some serious decisions about where and what she was going to do, and most probably to get far away