A killer runs loose in a small American town. When free-spirited Katherine allies herself with a man dubbed Satan by the townsfolk, has she found the man of her dreams or has she fallen into the hands of a murderer?
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St. Augustine's Silhouettes
At the sound of rustling in the trees, she spun, squinting in the dimness. A cloaked figure crouched in the shadows of wild shrubs. Stifling a scream, she threw her skirts over her arm and raced toward the town square. Terrified of stopping, she didn't pause to glance over her shoulder, though she heard heavy footsteps and the rasp of another's breath close behind her. Hoof beats sounded in the distance. Katherine imagined the killer's accomplice galloping toward her on a dark, fiery-eyed steed, ready to carry her body deep into the woods. She tried to leap across a narrow brook, but her boot slipped on the wet rocks. Screaming, she crashed into the muddy water, fully expecting her stalker to fall upon her.
The horse shrieked and its cloaked rider leapt off its back before it came to a complete stop. Hands covered in black gloves reached for her. She slashed at them with the scissors. Her attacker caught her wrist before the scissors struck home. The hood fell from dark hair streaked auburn in the moonlight. Dark eyes flashed at her from beneath arched brows. Katherine gasped. Alister St. Augustine's fine lips narrowed into a grim line. His face looked ghostly against the darkness of his cloak.
"Be still," he ordered, squeezing her wrist in his steely grip until she dropped the scissors. "Who was chasing you?"
"I don't know. You just lost my best cutting shears in the bottom of this brook!"
"Sorry, but I don't take kindly to nearly being stabbed."
"If you didn't frighten a helpless woman walking alone on a dark night, then you'd be in no danger of that."
"I would hardly call you helpless." He stood and offered her his hand.
After a brief hesitation, she took it and he tugged her to her feet, then released her.
He continued, "As for being out after dark, you shouldn't be, at least not until the killer is caught. Aren't you the dress shop girl?"
"Katherine Sinclair," she said. Standing this close to him was almost as unsettling as being chased. She'd only seen him through his shop window. Up close he was even more handsome than she'd realized. Despite his good looks, she sensed he could be as dangerous as the man who had stalked her.
With feline grace, he mounted his charcoal gray gelding and extended his hand to her, palm up. "Are you coming, Miss Sinclair?"
She stared at him, stunned at the suggestion that she should share a horse with the man dubbed Satan by the entire town.