Archiwum
- Index
- Anna Mayle Stolen Child 4 Daybreak for a Stolen Child
- Anna Rice Nowe Kroniki WampirĂłw II Wampir Vittorio
- 474. Harlequin Romance Michaels Leigh Cuda się zdarzają
- Annie Flanigan Love and a Bad Hair Day (pdf)
- HIdden Hills Shifters 2 Bare Instincts Vella Day
- DePalo_Anna_ _Szesciu_wspanialych_04_ _Niechciana_milosc
- Michaels_Leigh_Bardzo_moralna_propozycja_02
- Lora Leigh Nauti Buoy (Samhain)
- Day Leclaire Noc cudĂłw
- F Paul Wilson Deep As The Marrow
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- aeie.pev.pl
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tiny little baby to worry about. He paid that greedy witch at first, but it
wasn t enough. She insisted on more, and he had her thrown out. She
vowed revenge, and she got it. I know that woman hurt our little girl.
How else do you explain that not one single doctor could tell us why she
got so sick, why her leg just shriveled up, almost overnight, too? Mrs.
Carlson frowned, her gaze fixated on time gone by, as she began to wring
her arthritic hands together. That poor child. It hurts Ambrose so much
to see her in such pain. He blames himself, you know.
The room fell into stunned silence. Maxwell had heard rumors of
Mrs. Carlson s mental decline, but right now she spoke as if she were
completely lucid, except for the fact she referred to her husband as if he
still lived and Cindy was still a little girl.
Francesca put her arm around her mother. It s okay, Mom.
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Cindy s okay now.
Maxwell prayed Francesca was right.
Not only did it fix your leg, Priscilla said to Cindy, but your
eyesight, too. Do you think that stupid shoe somehow reversed something
she did to you years ago?
Cindy looked at her mother, her feet, her sisters, then into
Maxwell s eyes. What do you think?
He shook his head. I don t know, dove. It s possible, I guess. Then
again, this morning I didn t think anything like any of this was possible.
She nodded and tried to get up again. He held her tight against
him, and she gave in, relaxing against his chest once more.
So, um, Francesca took her mother s hand. Did you need
something, Mom?
The slight, white haired woman frowned, and a vacant look
hovered in her eyes as she looked at her daughter. It was as if her outburst
about Laveau had never happened, or she couldn t remember anything
about it. With a brief shake of her head, she pulled away from Francesca
and left the room.
Better not say that woman s name in the house again, Priscilla
muttered.
Cindy stared at her feet, wiggled her toes. Mom told me stories
about when I was little. How Daddy took me to dance classes and how
proud he was of me. Then I don t remember exactly when it happened,
sometime around age six or seven, but I know I got sick for a while.
Nothing the doctors did seemed to work. When I got better, my leg never
grew right after that. She looked up at Maxwell.
It had to be that witch, Priscilla said, anger evident in her tone.
Somehow she cast a spell on you as a child and just conned you into
paying her to remove it. That must be why she wanted the shoe back,
cause it could undo all the damage she d done to you. God, we have to
warn people about her. She s dangerous. Wonder what else she s done to
other people.
We ll worry about that tomorrow, Maxwell said. There was only
one thing on his mind now that it was all over, the mystery solved, and
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that was getting his Cindy, his little dove, home where he could protect
her, love her& maybe even start on that family his father dreamed about.
Keeping her firmly in his arms, he stood up and headed for the
front door.
Where are you taking me?
My house, he said, as if that were obvious.
She began to squirm. I can t go now, Cindy protested. I have
chores to do around here, especially now that I can see.
Francesca piped up, Already did em!
But& but I have to cook Mother s dinner.
I can do that, Priscilla said in a tone that brooked no more
arguments. She opened the front door. We ll be fine. You two go and
have a good time! Her sibling s grin was entirely too cheeky.
See? Permission granted. Maxwell grinned and kept walking
right through the doorway.
I
Her sister shut the door.
You what? he asked.
I can walk.
Yes, you can...later.
* * * * *
He d carried her to his car, a rather ostentatious Mercedes
convertible with its top up, and then carried her again despite her protests
once they d reached his home. Only the second time he d chosen a less
than romantic way of bearing her weight.
I m not a sack of potatoes, you know.
You should ve behaved yourself and not tried to get out of the car.
I told you I d let you walk& later.
He had raced around the car to prevent her from getting out on her
own. Her toes had barely touched pavement when he d tossed her over
one shoulder.
It is later, she said. Let me down.
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No. He popped her on the butt.
Ow! Stop that. Of course, her objections lost all potency the
moment she giggled. Her laughter came out choked and choppy as she
bounced against his back.
She clawed at his waistline for support while he slapped her on the
butt again and greeted his distinguished butler as if returning home with
a woman slung over his shoulder was completely natural.
Thank you, Ronald. He spun around. Meet Cindy.
Her cheeks flamed as she tried to see the man through her hair.
Greetings, Miss. Welcome to the Princetons home.
Hi. She gave him a little wave and ducked her head again. I
can t believe you won t let me down.
Maxwell spun again to head through the house. Don t want you
getting away again.
But we re inside, and I m not go
Maxwell Princeton! What do you think you re doing with that
poor girl? Put her down this instant.
Sorry, Dad. Can t do that.
Cindy cringed behind Maxwell s back. Butt in the air even if she
was clothed was not exactly how she wanted to meet his father. She
yelped when Maxwell swung her off his shoulder and into his arms. She
clamped her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life, but before she
could recover her breath, he sealed his mouth over hers for a
thought erasing kiss.
When he pulled away enough to speak, he said, But I would like
to introduce you to Cindy, the woman who will make all of your dreams
come true.
His father gaped, which seemed to mirror her own expression. His
dreams? Whatever in the world did Maxwell mean by that? She tried to
smile at Mr. Princeton but had to turn a curious eye toward the man s
stubborn son, who grinned at her.
I know, Maxwell said, his deep voice quieting as they stared into
each other s eyes, she s already fulfilled all of mine.
Cindy s grin came easily, and she ran her fingers into his hair, the
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strands as soft as her melted heart.
Maxwell s father sputtered, cleared his throat, and then very
formally said, A pleasure to meet you& Cindy, is it?
She turned to the family patron. Yes, sir. Cindy Carlson.
Not for long if I can help it, Maxwell murmured against her ear
as he tickled her sensitive flesh with his nose and tongue.
Maaaxxx& she urged, uncertain how to take that remark and
already a bit nervous about carrying on in such a way in front of his
father. Behave.
He playfully growled and bounced her in his arms, causing her to
squeal and cling to him.
Carlson? Ah, yes, Carlson. I believe I knew your father, his father
was saying as if nothing untoward was occurring. Ambrose Carlson. Yes,
he was a great man. My sympathies on his passing.
Cindy blinked, turned. Thank you, sir.
The man looked at his son, his expression more stern, his voice
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