Karin Huxman presents:
A Paranormal Romance from -- New Concepts Publishing
"Karin Huxman brings a ghost hero to life so vividly you can feel his passionate kisses. Filled with a touch of spookiness, quirky characters, and enough sexual tension to melt chocolate, ENTANGLED will drag the reader in until it's almost impossible to come up for air." ---Karen Fox, author of PRINCE OF CHARMING
The story goes like this:
Cassie Pierce is a graduate student looking for a thesis. She doesn't believe in ghosts. Reid Phillips died the first time over two hundred years ago. He dies over and over each night. On a plantation in Northern Virginia, Cassie observes Reid die by the sword and disappear. Her sensible world is tossed upside-down when it happens more than once. With the help of a thoroughly modern witch, Cassie learns that Reid was a real man who died under the cloud of treason. One night when she cannot bear to see him die again, Cassie throws herself between the sword and Reid. In ending Reid's cycle of death she has brought the evil spirit of his murderer into the world. Will Cassie and Reid have to sacrifice their new found love to send Reid's persecutor to the hereafter?
Interested? Here's how the story begins:
Chapter One
The sharp sound of metal striking metal reverberated through the still, warm air. It reminded Cassie Pierce of the old Errol Flynn movie she'd watched just last night. The silvery tone rang through her again.
Voices, raised in anger, accompanied the metallic sounds. Indecipherable words drifted across the dusk-filled meadow to where Cassie sat under an ancient oak tree, combing and carding raw wool. What could possibly be going on -- and where?
As she gazed across the common toward the great house, her isolation hit her. The only living creature she could see was a gray squirrel, searching for food, in peace now that the tourists had left. Cassie was the last docent working tonight at the Northern Virginia estate, Eagle's Aerie.
There, she heard the voices again. They called, faint yet clear, through the deepening gloom. The hairs on the back of her neck stiffened as she realized that the sounds were coming from the great house itself.
She stood and looked at the old mansion, or great house. Shadows wreathed it. Its many windows reminded her of dark, sightless eyes on an age marked face. Cassie pushed away the notion and wondered what she should do.
As she thought, a fire-like glow came to life in one of the front windows. A finger of cold fear ran down her back. The building was a tinder box . She couldn't ignore the possibility of fire-starting intruders on this historic site. She should call Fred, the security chief. All she had to do was activate her walkie-talkie to summon him. She hesitated, knowing that she could reach the mansion, and one of the many fire extinguishers stored there, before Fred could react.
Another tickle of sound shivered through her. She decided.
She cursed the long skirts and multiple petticoats that were the required uniform of all female docents here. The historica lly accurate clothes stifled in the summer heat. Wishing for jeans and sneakers, Cassie hiked the skirts up past her knees and ran. Her long legs ate up the distance to the front steps of the mansion.
Caution made her pause at the door. That, and the fact that the lights indicating the security system was activated, stopped her from precipitately opening the solid wood door. It didn't make sense. Intruders and fire should have set off every alarm.
Again, faint yet insistent, the angry masculine voices reached her. Now Cassie put the walkie-talkie to her mouth. Someone was fighting inside. Not only did she feel it close to sacrilegious for such activities to take place in this historic place, she had no desire to see anyone hurt.
"I can't wait, Fred," she argued into the instrument. "Maybe they'll stop if they see me. I think they have matches or something burning. I'm going in. Just get here fast."
"On my way." The box squawked into static, then silence.
Cassie concentrated on the combination of numbers that would electronically disarm the alarm. She pushed open the door and stepped cautiously inside.
Silence, and the ever present smell of age, greeted her. No smoke, thank goodness. Musty dust and the scent of fresh paint from the renovations tickled her nose. She struggled to hold back a sneeze.
Outside, dusk crept across the surrounding forest and greensward. Sunset tinted the new spring growth with rose and tangerine. The interior held darkness. It lurked in empty corners and shivered down the stairwell.
A tremor shook Cassie's slim frame and she almost stepped outside to wait for Fred. She squared her shoulders. Until the security detail showed up, she felt responsible. Was responsible, she corrected. She had locked up an hour ago. No one had been in the house then. She must find out who had entered and how.
Leaving the door open for Fred and his partner, Cassie turned to the room where she'd seen the flickering light.
A faint footfall sounded to her left. Frosty fingers of air met her at the doorway. The touch was palpable.
She entered a room used for lavish entertainment in earlier days. The cold nearly drove her away, and not from the mere physical sensation. This chill was more than tangible. A malevolence tinged it.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on how warm and spring-like the room had been earlier today, when she'd brought tour groups through to marvel at the lifestyle of one of the country's founding families. When she re-opened her eyes an unexpected sight filled her vision.
Scattered candles glowed throughout the room. Wall sconces and chandeliers, never lit in her lifetime, now gave the warmth of intimacy to the large space. The scene the candles illuminated stunned her. At first she could neither move nor speak as she watched the sword fight play out in front of her.
In her uncomfortable role of onlooker, she became increasingly sure that whatever she was watching was being played out without either man being aware of her presence. Like being in a sound-proof room, she heard the other occupants, but they couldn't hear her. Cassie put a hand to her throat and felt her pulse flutter against her fingers. It reassured her. She wasn't hallucinating.
She glanced around in wonder and with more than an edge of disbelief. In the yellow candlelight, she saw details in the room's decor never before evident, at least in the light of day. That oval concave mirror usually graced a wall in the small parlor. The carpet glowed with jewel-tone colors eve n in the dim light. It was a far cry from the faded antique, too fragile for heavy foot traffic that she was familiar with.
She turned her attention back to the men.
The opponents, physically well matched, each held the grim concentration that told Cassie this was a life or death struggle.
The younger man wore his dark shoulder-length hair pulled into a ponytail with a ribbon at the back of his head. He struggled for breath. Blood oozed from between the fingers of his free hand as he clasped his thigh. In h is left arm he held the sword in a muscle-popping grip. Sweat dripped from his brow. The blood looked real.
What on earth was going on here?
She looked at the other man. His age, at least ten years older than the dark-haired man, didn't slow him down. Indeed, he seemed to be toying with the first man, who valiantly defended himself as he bled to death in front of her.
"Stop," Cassie tried to cry out.
No sound issued from her mouth. Neither man did as she asked. Instead, in slow motion, the older man stepped back. Had he given up? She watched helplessly as the younger man lowered his sword.
"No." Cassie tried again.
This time her shout lingered in the air, dissipating slowly. It echoed in her ears and her mind. She shut her eyes as the older man ran the younger clean through with his sword.
Fear and a deep anguish swept through her. She slumped against the door jamb. When she opened her eyes, the room was devoid of movement, devoid of any life but her own. The intruders had vanished.
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