Heart Of The Flame PDF
Preview Heart Of The Flame
In the Passion of the Night She awoke to the feel of him. The light that still burned and the suddenness of awakening put panic in her eyes; they opened to find his face hovering above hers, his eyes topaz chips that smoldered with dark destructive passions. Her gaze fled. The panic caused her tostrugglebriefly,andhejerkedbothherhandsaboveherhead,pin- ning them together beneath one bandaged palm. He used his freed hand to bracket her jaw, dragging her eye back to him. “Don’tfightme,”hesaidthickly.“Fortheloveofheaven,don’tfight me now. Don’t make me stop.” She moaned. “I won’t fight you. I’ll let you, Daniel, but—” He freed her wrists and sank his white-swathed fingers into her hair. “Then kiss me,” he commanded. Other Avon Books by Araby Scott WILD SWEET WITCH Wild Sweet Witch Avon Books are available at spe- cial quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotions, premiums, fund raising or educational use.Specialbooks,orbookexcerpts,canalsobecre- ated to fit specific needs. FordetailswriteortelephonetheofficeoftheDirec- torofSpecialMarkets,AvonBooks,9598thAvenue, New York, New York 10019, 212-262-3361. HEART OF THE FLAME is an original publication of Avon Books. This work has never before appeared in book form. AVON BOOKS A division of The Hearst Corporation 959 Eighth Avenue New York, New York 10019 Copyright © 1982 by Araby Scott Published by arrangement with the author Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 81-52411 ISBN: 0-380-79459-4 All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as pro- vided by the U. S. Copyright Law. For information address Anita Diamant, Literary Agent 51 East 42nd Street, New York, New York 10017 First Avon Printing, May, 1982 AVON TRADEMARK REG. U. S. PAT. OFF. AND IN OTHER COUN- TRIES, MARC A RESGISTRADA, HECHO EN Printed in the U. S. A. WFH 10 987654321 Table of Contents Heart Of The Flame BOOK I: The Weapon PROLOGUE 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 BOOK II: The Will 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 BOOK III: The Way 29 30 31 32 33 BOOK I The Weapon 1 PROLOGUE In the year 1858, ten years before he acquired his first railroad, andmorethanaquarterofacenturybeforehebecameknownasthe ManintheIronFist,JulianGowhadhisfirstmanifestationofthere- curring vision that was to haunt him until his death. It happened in New York, in the shank of a warm April night. He had had visions before, visions of power; and because these visions gavehimpleasure,andbecausetheyalwayscameatthishour,hehad always welcomed the fact that he needed so little sleep. Onthatparticularnightin1858,beingtheninhistwenty-seventh year, he lay in bed, staring unblinkingly at the blankness of his ceil- ing, and waiting for a vision. It came. He was in a boardroom, at the head of a table. On the table and stretching its full length lay a great double-edged sword, silvery and shining, its hilt toward his hand. The chairs along the sides of the table were empty. At the far end of the table a shadowy figure stood. The figure was clad in shapeless black, the face was hidden in the shadow of a hood. “Who are you?” he asked. “I am Revenge,” came the whispered answer, and he knew it was a woman. A cold chill touched Julian Gow, like a presage of his own doom. “I am Revenge,” repeated that faint inexorable voice. He felt chilled to the bone. Sweat broke out on his brow and ran sideways in rivulets, darkening his ashen hair. He began to blink rapidly, willing the vision to vanish, but he could not wrest his eyes away. The vision was more real than reality. “I am Revenge,” she said for the third time. “You are only a woman.” He trembled. “You cannot destroy me.” “I have the weapon,” she whispered. “I have the will. I have the way.” And he saw that the woman bore a seed in her belly, and that she wasgreatwithchild.Andheknewthattheseedwasofhisownsow- ing. Hereachedfortheswordwithouttakinghiseyesfromtheceiling. 2 He screamed. He looked down at his fingers, and saw blood. With a horror too great for words, he realized that the hilt was no longer at his hand, but at hers. When the vision vanished, the blood remained. Julian Gow had bitten through his own hand, nearly to the bone. In the morning, for he was a rich man even then, he hired a team ofItalianartisanstopaintscenesonhisbedroomceiling,scenesthat would remind him what a woman was for. 3
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