Read Tower of Shadows for Free Online Page B

social life. She'd always had boyfriends, although so far she
    hadn't been tempted to engage in any serious commitment. Casual
    encounters that ended in bed had never been her scene, and in
    today's sexual climate they were not simply tacky, but positively
    dangerous.
    Usually, she met people halfway, and tried not to make snap
    judgements about them. She hoped they would make the same
    allowances for her.
    But this man — this arrogant de Rochefort creature — galled her
    as no one had ever done before. It wasn't just the terrible things
    he'd implied about Isabelle, although, God knew, they were bad
    enough. It was his totally unwarranted attitude to herself.
    He seemed to have hated her on sight, yet he knew nothing about
    her, except that she bore a passing physical resemblance to
    Isabelle. And on such flimsy grounds she'd apparently been tried
    and sentenced. It was just assumed that she had some ulterior
    motive in coming here, and she wasn't allowed to defend herself.
    The injustice of it numbed her.
    The worst her mother could be charged with was running away.
    And was it any wonder she'd fled, if she'd been subjected to the
    same bullying and threats by an earlier generation of de
    Rocheforts? Sabine thought hotly. That — arrogant brute had
    implied that her mother had taken his family for a ride financially,
    yet, according to Ruth Russell, Isabelle had been pregnant and
    penniless, reduced to working as a mother's help when Hugh met
    her. The two stories contradicted each other.
    She looked up at the cloudless sky. She said out loud, 'I'm going to
    find out exactly what transpired all those years ago, and I'm not
    leaving here until I know the truth. I'm going to clear my mother's
    name, and the great M'sieur Rohan —' she almost spat the name '
    — is going to eat every last insulting word.'
    She went back into the house and slammed the door.

    She felt too uptight to embark on cooking her chicken dish that
    night, so she organised a simpler meal of terrine, followed by an
    omelette and fruit.
    A search of the outside store revealed two folding canvas garden
    chairs, dilapidated but useable. She carried them on to the terrace
    in front of the house, and sat down, intending to read one of the
    paperback books she'd brought with her until the light faded.
    But concentration on the story was well-nigh impossible. Every
    time she heard the slightest noise, she found herself glancing
    towards the archway.
    Stop being stupid, she adjured herself, annoyed by her own
    twitchiness. He won't come back. He wouldn't dare.
    She paused, grimacing. Did she really believe that?
    He was the kind of man who looked capable of anything—who
    lived life entirely on his own terms. Physically, he wasn't her type
    at all, she thought, subjecting him to a critical mental review.
    Some women might find him attractive, but she didn't go for loose-
    limbed, olive-skinned men whose black hair flopped across their
    foreheads. Besides which, his nose was too long, his eyes were too
    heavy-lidded, and his chin too damned assertive by half. And his
    firm mouth, when it wasn't compressed by anger, had a
    disturbingly sensual curve, which made her skin prickle even to
    recall it.
    Would he make love, perhaps, as fiercely as he hated? she
    wondered, then stopped right there, giving herself a mental shake.
    That was one line of conjecture she certainly didn't need to pursue.
    But he would not, she admitted reluctantly, be easy to forget.
    Dangerous, she thought, and ruthless too. Master of all he
    surveyed, and used to his own way. Well, he'd come unstuck this
    time. She couldn't be bought and she wouldn't be forced out of
    here.
    She realised she was revolving everything they'd said to each other
    round and round in her mind. That brief reference to his stepfather
    was haunting her, and she wished she'd found out more while she
    had the chance.
    Perhaps it had been a mistake to dismiss him so summarily after
    all, she thought with