Robin Weaver
Author
Author
Excerpt from Blue Ridge Fear
If he is a spider, I’m happily ensnared in his web.
He nipped at his lower lip. Sienna couldn’t keep her own mouth from trembling, because he looked like he might kiss her. God help her, she wanted him to kiss her.
He didn’t move. She didn’t move. The standoff lasted for several seconds that seemed like an eternity. Finally, he shook his head, as if released from a spell.
The man lifted her into his arms. Surprise stunned her muscles into atrophy, but she recovered her wits and began to thrash about, dropping the single crutch she’d been holding.
“What are you doing? Put me down.”
He held tightly. “Take it easy. I’m only carrying you to the door so you won’t have to walk.”
She stopped resisting and pretended to relax. True to his word, he headed toward the cabin. When he reached the wrap-around porch, the man set her gently on the steps.
“I—”
“A word of advice, Sienna. It’s not safe around here for women who look like you. Don’t let a stranger get this close. By the time you scream, it could be too late.”
She opened her mouth, but no saucy retort came to mind. While she struggled with her snappy comeback, he backed down the steps and gave her a mock salute. Two steps and he vanished into the trees. Again. Disappearing was a chronic habit with that man.
She stared at the spot where darkness had engulfed him. His cryptic remark replayed in her mind. A word of advice, Sienna.
The crutches began to shake in her hands.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. He knew her name.
Copyright © 2012 by Robin Weaver
If he is a spider, I’m happily ensnared in his web.
He nipped at his lower lip. Sienna couldn’t keep her own mouth from trembling, because he looked like he might kiss her. God help her, she wanted him to kiss her.
He didn’t move. She didn’t move. The standoff lasted for several seconds that seemed like an eternity. Finally, he shook his head, as if released from a spell.
The man lifted her into his arms. Surprise stunned her muscles into atrophy, but she recovered her wits and began to thrash about, dropping the single crutch she’d been holding.
“What are you doing? Put me down.”
He held tightly. “Take it easy. I’m only carrying you to the door so you won’t have to walk.”
She stopped resisting and pretended to relax. True to his word, he headed toward the cabin. When he reached the wrap-around porch, the man set her gently on the steps.
“I—”
“A word of advice, Sienna. It’s not safe around here for women who look like you. Don’t let a stranger get this close. By the time you scream, it could be too late.”
She opened her mouth, but no saucy retort came to mind. While she struggled with her snappy comeback, he backed down the steps and gave her a mock salute. Two steps and he vanished into the trees. Again. Disappearing was a chronic habit with that man.
She stared at the spot where darkness had engulfed him. His cryptic remark replayed in her mind. A word of advice, Sienna.
The crutches began to shake in her hands.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. He knew her name.
Copyright © 2012 by Robin Weaver
2010 Winner Daphne du Maurier Award
The Kiss of Death Chapter of Romance Writers of America annually recognizes the best in published and unpublished mystery and suspense fiction with the Daphne du Maurier Award.