(1994) Grand Passion by Jayne Ann Krentz

Author:Jayne Ann Krentz [Krentz, Jayne Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schusters
Published: 1994-06-22T05:00:00+00:00

The distant thuds brought Cleo up out of a dreamless sleep. She lay quietly for a moment, trying to identify the sounds. They stopped after a moment.

She concluded that George, or perhaps one of the guests, had walked down the hall outside her room.

Cleo yawned and tried to turn on her side. She realized she could not move because Max was pinning her legs to the bed. He had one muscled thigh thrown over her calves.

In addition to being trapped, she was much too warm. The heat from Max’s body made the quilt superfluous. Sharing a bed with Max was a very strange experience, Cleo thought. It was like sleeping with a blast furnace.

The thuds started up again. They reverberated softly through the walls in a primitive, unrelenting, extremely irritating rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Cleo came fully awake in a hurry. She jackknifed into a sitting position.

“Good lord, Max. Someone’s drumming down there.”

“What’s wrong?” Max asked from the depths of the pillow.

“Don’t you hear it? Someone’s got a drum downstairs.” Cleo pushed aside the quilt and struggled to get herself free of Max. “He’ll wake up everyone in the whole inn.”

Cleo managed to get out of the bed. She raced to the closet and reached for a pair of jeans and a shirt.

“Hold on, Cleo. I’ll go down with you.” Max got out of bed, yawning.

The distant murmur of men’s voices mingled with the drumming. Cleo listened intently and then yelped in disbelief.

“They’ve started chanting.” She grabbed her glasses and pushed them onto her nose. “It must be some of the men from Mr. Quinton’s Warriors’ Journey group. That does it, I’m going to throw them all out. I don’t care if it is raining cats and dogs.”

“If you throw them out, you’ll have a hard time collecting for the rooms,” Max reminded her as he zipped up his trousers.

“Right now all I care about is getting that damned drumming stopped.” Cleo was at the door. “I knew I should never have taken them in tonight. I didn’t like the looks of that Tobias Quinton from the start. I’m too darn soft-hearted, that’s my problem.”

She yanked open the door and raced out into the hall, aware that Max was following more slowly behind her.

The drumming was a lot louder when she reached the second floor, louder still when she got to the first floor. It seemed to be coming from the solarium.

Cleo went to the front desk. George was nowhere in sight. Assuming he had already gone to investigate the drumming, Cleo started to turn toward the solarium. Then she heard the snores emanating from her office.

“George?”

“Your ever vigilant night clerk is sound asleep,” Max observed as he came up behind her.

“For heaven’s sake.” Cleo ducked into the office and saw that George was, indeed, sprawled in her chair, eyes closed, mouth agape. His feet were propped on her desk.

“Forget it,” Max advised. “He wouldn’t be much help, anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Cleo squared her shoulders and stalked past him. “I’ll just have to take care of this myself.

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