Excerpt of The Shadows of Stormclyffe Hall by Lauren Smith

“I wanted to…” He finally met her gaze. “I wanted to thank you
for the kiss. I haven’t been kissed like that in many years. It
shouldn’t have happened though.” He pushed away from the door,
and after a moment, he walked toward her, a look of
determination hardening his features momentarily. With his
every step drawing him closer, her breath hitched, and she
clung to the hangings for support. When he was mere inches away
from her, he simply stared at her face and then focused on her
mouth as though the answers he sought were there. She licked
her lips nervously as sharp hunger spiked through her. Would he
kiss her again? Would she lose herself anew in his embrace?

“Why?” she asked.

He ignored her question. “Who are you, Jane? Who are you
really?” His whispered question made her shiver. She didn’t
know the answer herself. He trailed the back of his knuckles
over her cheek, and another shiver rippled through her, like a
pool of water disturbed by a stone cast into its depths.

“Who am I? I don’t know…not anymore.” She was Jane, but she
wasn’t Jane any longer. The more she was around him, the more
she felt she was changing. Like the coastline by Sandsfoot
Castle ruins, her sense of self was altering with the force of
Bastian’s presence, which pounded at her like mighty waves.
They would shape and form each other and become something new,
only she wasn’t sure what that would be. She simply knew that
she belonged with him, wherever he was.

But he didn’t want her, wouldn’t have anything to do with her.
Every time he touched her, he reminded her it was wrong, that
they shouldn’t do it. Then why did he keep coming back to her?
It didn’t make any sense, and she knew logically she shouldn’t
want him either.

He lowered his head and feathered his lips along her jaw, and
her lashes fluttered as pleasure and need fueled each other
until her skin was burning.

“You are a mystery to me.” His words rumbled against the
sensitive skin of her neck as he pressed his body into hers,
pinning her to the bedpost. “You’re an American, but you act as
though this place is in your blood. I see your love of my home
shining in your eyes, even as you fear its darkness.” He stole
a brief, hot kiss before continuing. “You look like her, Jane.
Did you know that? When I first saw you, I thought you were
Isabelle come back from the dead.”

His hands cupped her shoulders, fingers tensing. “I thought I’d
gone mad, believing such nonsense, and then I gave in and
kissed you, and we…” His mouth trembled as he kissed her again,
this time deep but too brief. “It’s as if the past is repeating
itself …” He shook his head ruefully. “What does it matter? I
want this. I want you, even though I shouldn’t.”

She opened her mouth to deny him, but no words were there. His
mouth came down hard on hers, and she was caught in the tide
and pulled away from the safety of the shore.