Read Rachel Carrington for Free Online Page B

have to have air.” She dashed from the dining hall and raced across the thick carpets.
    She didn’t know where her flight took her, but discovering a glass door with filigreed carvings, she saw a glimpse of freedom.
    The garden embraced her and though night had fallen, she could still see the manicured lawn and smell the lush, green grass. Taken straight from the pages of a landscaping magazine, the walled enclosure allowed the barest hint of moonlight to dance over its hedges.
    By the light of that moon, Carla saw the green foliage adorning the walkway leading to a small alcove.
    Vivid blossoms lent perfume to the air and petals to the ground, cushioning her feet as she walked, enjoying both the night air and sense of serenity. She knew as far as the eye could see, the lands stretched out before her, bracketed by the nursery, the hothouse, the stables and rolling hills that beckoned a weary traveler to collapse among the greenery. The pictures she’d seen of the castle prior to her arrival had merely hinted at its grandeur.
    Carla gave a wistful sigh.
    “You are welcome here for as long as it takes you to resolve your dilemma, Miss Morgan,” the Duke spoke from behind her, too close behind her.
    Carla gave him the first smile, not surprised that he’d followed her. “Thank you.” She hooked one hand around the dress and swished her way back up the walkway. How women of this age had managed in these damnable dresses, she would never know. “I apologize for running off like that.” What had made her say that? Now, she sounded like a meek woman of old besides looking like one.
    Clad in a heavy silk gown of pale yellow, Carla had caught a glimpse of herself in the oval mirror in the Duke’s bedchamber before she’d been summoned for dinner. Although the look was fashionable for this time period, the many layers of clothing weren’t conducive to a sense of freedom. Not for the first time, Carla tugged at the stays digging into her hips and waist. The corset pinched her skin unmercifully and Carla winced. If not for her intentional denial of the situation, she would have laughed. Of all people, she was the last to belong here in this land, this era. She was a city woman with an unapologetic love of the rush and whirl of Manhattan and now, she was stuck in an age where her opinions meant as little as her lack of comfort.
    The Duke fell into step beside her, his shoulder occasionally bumping hers. “You are having a hard time accepting your circumstances. I understand and I want you to feel free to talk to me at any time.”
    Carla’s eyes narrowed and she wondered what this man had done with the real Duke, the lord of the manor. “I will be fine…as soon as I figure out how to get out of here.”
    “In the meantime, please treat Heath Castle as your home. You may come and go as you please. Tour the grounds, ride the horses. I want you to be comfortable here.”
    Carla shifted as the corset gouged her left side. “I’m scared.” She gave a little laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve said that. Where I come from, admitting your fears is not a good thing.”
    Black eyes watched her, reading beneath the brave façade. “I do not judge you for your fear, Miss Morgan. Fear is a natural emotion. Any woman would be frightened in your situation, but I assure you that you are safe with me.”
    Her eyebrows lifted. “Am I?” She had seen the way he’d been watching her and even in her desperate state, she acknowledged her own attraction to the Duke. She couldn’t be faulted for that. The Duke of Heath exuded raw masculinity and sheer magnificent perfection. Broad shoulders tapered down to a lean waist. Muscular thighs strained against the black linen of his trousers and just above those thighs, well, she’d spent enough time sneaking glances at that particular area in spite of her attempts to remain aloof.
    Her fingers itched to brush up against him, just to see if his body would respond as wildly as hers