The Saint by Tiffany Reisz - Chapter Sampler

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TIFFANY

REISZ

TheSAINT

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First Published 2014First Australian Paperback Edition 2014ISBN 978 174356825 5

THE SAINT 2014 by Tiffany Reisz

Australian Copyright 2014New Zealand Copyright 2014

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in wholeor in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now knownor hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in anyinformation storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of thepublisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that shall not, by way of trade orotherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the priorconsent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which itis published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposedon the subsequent purchaser.

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in anyform. This edition is published in arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A..

This is a work of ction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the

product of the authors imagination or are used ctitiously, and any resemblanceto actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales isentirely coincidental.

Published byHarlequin SPICE

An imprint of Harlequin Enterprises (Australia) Pty LtdLevel 4132 Arthur StreetNORTH SYDNEY NSW 2060

AUSTRALIA

and are trademarks owned by Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its corporateafliates and used by others under licence. Trademarks marked with an areregistered in Australia and in other countries. Contact admin_legal@Harlequin.cafor details.

Printed and bound in Australia by Grifn Press

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Dedicated to St. Ignatius of Loyola, His Holiness Pope

Francis and all the soldiers of God who serve in The

Society of Jesus.

He was part of my dream, of coursebut then I was

part of his dream, too.

Through the Looking-Glass

Lewis Carroll

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1

Nora

NORA SUTHERLIN WAS BEING FOLLOWEDShe didnt know she was being followed as she drove

through Bavaria and into the heart of the Black Forest. Who

would follow her, after all? And why? No one back home

knew why shed left, and no one at all knew where shed

gone. She kept her eyes on the road ahead and didnt once

think to look behind her.

A vague uneasiness, a quiet sort of dread, had burrowed

into her mind and made a home there. The sun, which had

seen almost as much as she had in her lifetime, chased her car

as she raced down a road shrouded in towering pine trees.

Dark. Light. Dark. Light. Nora sensed the shadows wanted

to catch her and keep her. She pushed the accelerator and f led

deeper into the forest.At last she came to the end of the road and spied a small

thatched-roof cottage hidden among the pine and fir trees.

Two stories and made all of stone, the little house seemed

an exile from a fairy tale. A kindly woodcutter could live in

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that housethe sort whod save a little girl from the jaws of

a wolf. If the cottage were part of a fairy tale, who was she?

The woodcutter? The girl?Or the wolf?

She gathered her things from the car and strode toward the

cottage. The owner had warned her there was no lock on the

door but promised she would be safe. This part of the woods

was on private land. No one would trouble her. No one at all.

Ivy covered the cottage from the ground to the chimney.

She felt as if shed stepped back four hundred years when she

crossed the threshold. Gazing around the interior, she made

her days plan. Shed build a fire in that great gray stone

hearth. Shed drink tea out of ruddy earthenware mugs. Shed

sleep under heavy sheets in a rustic bed with posts of rough-

hewn wood. In another time and under different circum-

stances, she would have loved it here. But grief clawed at herheart, and her task lay hard before her.

And it wasnt in Noras nature to relish the prospect of

sleeping alone.

She took her bags upstairs to the sole bedroom and knelt

on the floor by the smaller of her two suitcases. She unzipped

the bag carefully, slowly, reluctantly. From a bed of velvet she

pulled out a silver box the size of a pew Bible and held it in

her shaking hands.

As the cottage owner had promised, she found the cobble-

stone path that led to the lakeshore. The smell of pine sur-

rounded her as she wandered down the path. It was April

but the scent called Christmas to mind . O Holy Night

playing on the piano, red and green candles, silver bows,golden ornaments and Saint Nicholas coming to hide coins

in the shoes of all the good little children. Idly she wished

Saint Nicholas would see fit to visit her tonight. Shed wel-

come the company.

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THE SAINT 1 1

The path widened and ahead of her she saw the lake, its

dark clear waters silver tipped in the sunlight that peeked

through clouds. She stood on the stony shore at the watersedge.

She could do this. For days now shed been preparing her-

self for this moment, preparing what she would say and how

she would say it. She would be strong. For him, she would

do this, could do this.

Nora swallowed hard and took a quick breath.Sren As soon as she spoke his name she stopped. She

could get no more words out. They backed up in her throat

and choked her like a hand around her neck. Turning her

back on the water, she half walked, half ran to the house, the

silver box clutched to her chest. She couldnt let it go yet. She

couldnt say goodbye.

She set the silver box on the heavy wood fireplace man-

tel and turned her back to it. If she pretended it wasnt there,

maybe she could believe it hadnt happened.

Outside the cottage, the wind picked up. The rickety, ivy-

covered shutters rattled against the stone walls. Electricity

brushed against her skin. Ozone scented the air. A storm

was rising.Nora started two firesone in the great stone hearth and

one in the smaller bedroom fireplace. The owner of the house

had stocked the refrigerator and cabinets for her. An unnec-

essary kindness. She hadnt had much of an appetite for two

weeks now, but shed make herself eat if only to stave off the

headaches hunger inf licted on her.The day passed as she kept herself busy with small tasks.

The cottage was clean but it gave her a sense of purpose to

wash all the dishes in a large copper kettle and to sweep the

hardwood floor with a witchs broom she found in the pan-

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try. She worked until exhaustion overtook her and she lay

down on top of the bed and napped.

Nora woke from a restive, dreamless sleep and ran waterin the claw-foot porcelain bathtub. She sank into the heat,

hoping it would seep into her skin and relax her. Yet when

she emerged an hour later, pink and wrinkled, she still felt

tight as a knot.

She dressed in a long white spaghetti-strap nightgown.

The hemline tickled her ankles as she walked and brushed

the tops of her bare feet. To distract herself, she stood in front

of the mirror twisting and pinning her hair this way and

that, taming the black waves into a low knot with loose ten-

drils that flowed over her neck and framed her face. When

she finished, she almost laughed at the effect. In her white

nightgown, with understated makeup and her hair coiffed in

curls, she looked like a virgin bride on her wedding night. Anolder bride, of courseshed turned thirty-six last month.

But still the woman in the mirror looked demure, innocent,

even scared. She thought grief aged people, but tonight she

felt like a teenager againrestless and waiting, aching for

something she couldnt name but that she knew she needed.

But what was it? Whowas it?

She wandered downstairs and considered eating. Instead

of feeding herself, she fed the fire. As the wood crackled and

burned, lightning split the sky outside the kitchen window.

Thunder rumbled close behind. Nora stood at the window

and watched the night rip itself open. Bursts of thunder rat-

tled the forest again and again. Between rumbles, Nora heard

a different sound. Louder. Clearer. Closer.Footsteps on stone.

A knock on the door.

Then silence.

Nora froze. No one should be out here. No one but her.

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THE SAINT 13

The owner had promised her privacy. This cottage was the

lone house for miles, hed said. He owned all the land around

it. She would be safe. She would be alone.Another knock.

The cottage door had no lock. Whoever stood outside

could walk in at any moment. For two weeks now the only

emotions shed felt were sorrow and grief. Now she felt some-

thing elsefear.

But Sren had trained her too wellHebrews 13:2, Donot neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some

have entertained angels unawares. And such a night was f it

for neither angel nor demon, saint or sinner.

She threw open the door. A man, not an angel, stood on

the opposite side of the threshold.

Sanctuary?

Rain drenched his dark hair and beaded on his leather

jacket.

What the hell are you doing here? she asked, crossing

her arms over her chest, self-conscious about the low cut of

her nightgown. She should have thrown on a robe.

Begging for sanctuary. Should I do it again? Sanctuary?

Did you follow me? she asked. Shed flown into Mar-seille last night and had dinner with him. She never dreamed

hed chase her all the way to Germany.

I would have come sooner, but I took a wrong turn at

Hansel and Gretels. A girl in a red cloak gave me directions,

and now Im here, Snow White.

You found your way here, Huntsman. You can f ind yourway back, she said. I cant give you sanctuary.

Why not?

You know what will happen if I let you in.

Exactly what we both want to happen.

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It cant happenyou and me. And you dont need me to

tell you why.

The smile faded from his face.You need me, he said.

It doesnt matter. I have to do this alone.

You dont have to do it alone. He took an almost im-

perceptible step forward. The toes of his rain-soaked buff-

colored boots touched but did not cross the threshold. You

do too much alone.I cant let you in, she said, and felt that fist in her throat

again.

Would he want you to face this alone?

No, she said. He wouldnt.

Let me in.

That sounded like an order. I told you what I am. Youknow I give the orders.

She could already feel her resolve crumbling. Twenty-five

years old, tall, deeply tanned, dark hair with the slightest

wave to it that demanded a womans fingers run through it

again and again, clear celadon eyesan inheritance from his

Persian motherand a face that someone should sculpt soit would endure even after both of them turned to dust and

ashes How could she turn him away? How could anyone?

Then order me to come inside, he said.

She closed her eyes and held the door to steady herself. This

was wrong. She knew it. Shed sworn before shed even seen

him that she wouldnt do this, not ever, not with him. Butthen shed met him. And now, after all that had happened

and the grief that threatened to overwhelm her, could anyone

blame her for taking her comfort with him? One man would

blame her. But was that enough to stop her?

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THE SAINT 15

Order me in, he said again, and Nora opened her eyes.

Please.

She could never resist a beautiful man begging.Come in, Nico, she said to Kingsleys son. Thats an

order.

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