Jane Godman - Otherworld Protector

He was beautiful.

It was not a word Stella usually associated with men, but it suited him. Don’t keep staring at the gorgeous mouth, she told herself firmly. It was his eyes that drew her most strongly. They were every bit as mesmerizing as she remembered. In the shade they were the color of a faded eucalyptus leaf. As he looked away into the sunlight, they shone like silver coins.

Forcing herself to focus, she asked the first of the many questions that jostled for a place on her lips.

“Why have you appeared to me now?”

That broke the spell. A slight frown creased his brow and he pulled his eyes away from hers. “Because you are in grave danger.”

JANE GODMANwrites in a variety of genres including paranormal, gothic and historical romance, and erotic romantic suspense. She also enjoys the occasional foray into horror and thriller writing. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities, which are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favorites.

A teacher, Jane is married to a lovely man and is mum to two grown-up children.

Otherworld

Protector

Jane Godman

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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While writing this book I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I’m one of the lucky ones. My tumor is low-grade and slow-growing. I’d like to dedicate this book to my fellow brain tumor fighters and those who care for and support us.

Contents

Cover

Introduction He was beautiful. It was not a word Stella usually associated with men, but it suited him. Don’t keep staring at the gorgeous mouth, she told herself firmly. It was his eyes that drew her most strongly. They were every bit as mesmerizing as she remembered. In the shade they were the color of a faded eucalyptus leaf. As he looked away into the sunlight, they shone like silver coins. Forcing herself to focus, she asked the first of the many questions that jostled for a place on her lips. “Why have you appeared to me now?” That broke the spell. A slight frown creased his brow and he pulled his eyes away from hers. “Because you are in grave danger.”

About the Author JANE GODMAN writes in a variety of genres including paranormal, gothic and historical romance, and erotic romantic suspense. She also enjoys the occasional foray into horror and thriller writing. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities, which are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favorites. A teacher, Jane is married to a lovely man and is mum to two grown-up children.

Title Page Otherworld Protector Jane Godman www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication While writing this book I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I’m one of the lucky ones. My tumor is low-grade and slow-growing. I’d like to dedicate this book to my fellow brain tumor fighters and those who care for and support us.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Stella Fallon was in the process of discovering that there is nothing so hysteria inducing as the realization that you have given up your job and traveled to a new country, spending every penny of your savings in the process, in pursuit of a dream that doesn’t exist. Okay, so it had been a crap job. And the savings had just about covered her plane ticket. As she stared up at the vast crumbling mansion, these extenuating circumstances did not provide Stella with one single morsel of comfort. If the house was empty—and it certainly looked that way—she was officially homeless, jobless and, once she had paid the taxi fare, had exactly one hundred euros to her name.

“This is the right house, senorita. For sure.” The driver repeated the statement he had made a few minutes earlier. While his tone was patient, his eyes were wary as they met hers in the rearview mirror. Possibly he could sense her rising panic. He might even have been cursing the fact that, from the long line of eager tourists and experienced businessmen waiting for taxis at the airport that night, he was the one who ended up with this quirky-looking girl. Whatever his emotions might be, he was clearly fearful of not getting his cash and impatient at being kept waiting now that he had delivered her to her destination.

“It can’t be.” Although the driver had spoken in Spanish, she responded in English and he made a helpless, uncomprehending gesture. Stella corrected her mistake. “No es posible.”

“ Sí. This is the address you gave me. La Casa Oscura—” he gestured into the pitch-blackness beyond the car windows “—it is well-known in this city.”

La Casa Oscura. The Dark House. Except it shouldn’t be dark. According to the emails Stella had received, it should be lit up in welcome for her. Or, if “lit up” might be construed as an overenthusiastic approach to greeting a new junior employee, there should at least have been some sign of life. There was none.

“You want me to take you to a hotel in the city center for tonight? That way you can come back in the morning. Check the place out in daylight.”

The suggestion made sense, and Stella was about to dent her precious hundred euros further and agree. That was when she felt it. Felt him . There was the familiar flicker of movement on the outer edge of her vision. She knew from experience there was no point in trying to capture it. He existed only on the periphery. Looking directly at him would cause him to disappear. But it was enough. Well-being, warm, mellow and welcome flooded her veins. Her protector was here.

“No.” Taking out her wallet, she counted out the right number of notes for the fare and added a tip.

“I can wait here until you are inside,” the driver offered as he pocketed the money. Stella could almost see him assessing the possibility of being featured as the bad guy in the following day’s tabloid headlines.

Cabbie abandoned lone Brit-girl tourist at death house, saying “I wanted my supper!”

“I’ll be fine,” Stella assured him and he shrugged a doubtful shoulder. She could hardly explain her newfound bravado to him. As she clambered out of the car, juggling her backpack and laptop case, the driver hauled her wheeled suitcase out of the trunk. With a final glance over his shoulder and shrug, he returned to the car. Stella waited for him to drive off before she turned to look up at the house. The darkness here on the hillside above the city was so all-encompassing that what she saw was the outline of the hulking building and none of its detail. First impressions were everything, and this one definitely didn’t feel comforting.

Although the house itself, like its name, was cloaked in obscurity, there was enough light from the street lamps for Stella to make her way unhindered through the vast wrought-iron gates. Thoughts of medieval prisons and torture chambers sprang into her mind. All useful ideas for future game projects, she assured herself, making a mental note. Her feet crunched onto a gravel drive. This, in turn, opened out onto a large, paved square and Stella noticed, with a feeling of profound relief, that there were several cars and motorbikes parked to one side of this area. In the darkness, she could not distinguish makes or models. One of the cars was definitely low-slung, sleek and probably expensive. Moncoya expensive? At the very least, the cars were evidence that the house might not be an abandoned ruin, after all.