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Back The Runaway Heiress Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR MEG TILLY AND HER NOVELS
  3. TITLES BY MEG TILLY
  4. Dedication
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. Excerpt from SOLACE ISLAND
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. 4
  74. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  75. What’s next onyour reading list?

Sarah’s gaze jerked up from the page, and there he was, looking at her with those tawny, gold-flecked eyes. “I . . .” Suddenly she was aware of the late hour, the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra or underwear. Had grabbed the robe and dashed out of the door. She swallowed and forced her gaze back to the page, trying to ignore the liquid heat coursing through her. Sarah tipped her chin down so her hair shielded her from his scrutiny. “I was enjoying the work.” A partial truth. “Hearing your insights on the script. It made me want to read it.” She could see through her makeshift curtain that he was still watching her as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve. What would it be like to not have to hide, disassemble, to be able to stand tall in who I am, to hold a man’s gaze and proudly invite him to do more than look? The thought was as effective as pinching the lit wick of a candle, snuffing out the flame. A wave of weariness washed over her. Will I ever be able to be more than a mirage? Sarah felt her eyes heat but stuffed the emotion down. Clamped her teeth together, poised her pen over her paper and awaited his next note. She felt like a ghost, hovering on the fringes of life, constantly being forced to reinvent herself. Living an imaginary life where everything she did, every word she uttered was tinged with the acrid taste of falsehoods and lies in her mouth. And the odds of being able to return to who she was, to anything familiar, seemed highly unlikely.

16

It had been only a week since Sarah had landed on Mick Talford’s doorstep, and yet it felt as if she had been living there much longer. There was a familiar comfort to the place. It felt as if the home and the grounds, with their lush, fragrant gardens, had scooped her up into their embrace, making her feel safe and cared for.

Sarah was folding the top sheet over the comforter on Mick’s bed when the dryer chimed down the hall in the laundry room. She hastily pulled the fresh pillowcases over the pillows, fluffed them. Then she propped them up against the headboard, gliding her hands over them to smooth the pillowcases. She tweaked the corners so they would stand correctly, then placed the small accent pillow just so. Stood back, looked it over. Good.