Sarah just stood there silently looking down at the bolster pillows. She must have stood there for a full two or three minutes. It really was such a shock.
Sarah eventually realized that she had been holding her hand to her mouth all this time. Probably to prevent herself from screaming, she assumed. She still had the horrible feeling that this couldn’t be happening. But, of course, it was. Maybe it was a mental protection mechanism for dealing with trauma after trauma, she wondered. But the fact remained; Vivien de Gallois-Llewellyn was nowhere to be seen.
She sat down on a metal chair to steady herself. She felt that all her thought processes had become paralyzed at that moment.
It must have been quite a long time before Sarah was aware that someone was softly calling her name.
The morgue door was pushed slightly open, and she jumped as she heard her name called.
“Sarah? Sarah? Are you all right?”
It was the handsome Hugh St. Owen calling her name.
“I’m over here, Hugh.” Even her voice sounded quite far away to her.
The hunk trod cautiously into the room followed by his grandfather. Hugh immediately walked over to her. Again his concern for the beautiful young woman took precedence over his concern about the murder. Sarah was dimly cognizant of this.
“But where’s the body?”
A booming voice cut through the fog. Sarah raised her head. It was Peter St. Owen looking absolutely astonished as he peered down at the bolster pillows.
Sarah turned towards the old man and slightly shrugged her shoulders.
“The body isn’t here,” said Sarah in a whisper. She felt stupid stating the obvious.
Hugh St. Owen looked down at her.
“But where ? ” he began.
Just at that moment the heavy door swung open and Detective Inspector Rice strode into the room. He stopped at the center table and looked down. Sarah wished she had been carrying a camera. The Inspector’s expression was one for the Guinness Book of Records, she thought.  To say that he was surprised, or maybe enraged, would have been a gross understatement.
Sarah smiled to herself as Inspector Rice turned to her with a look virtually accusing her of moving the body. He just continued to stare at her. Sarah began to feel uncomfortable and even surprised herself at the Inspector’s reaction. So much so that she was moved to say:
“No, Inspector Rice, I did not make the body disappear.”
The Inspector cleared his throat. His face became flushed.
“I…I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Miss.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows and looked back him. The Inspector shuffled around the morgue in an awkward manner.  Then, before Sarah’s companions could muster enough valor to spring to her defense, the embarrassed detective walked quickly out of the room.
Hugh St. Owen and his grandfather exchanged astonished glances.
“What was that all about?” asked Hugh St. Owen.
Sarah looked up at the handsome stud.
“I think he thought I had somehow conspired to move the body,” she answered.
Before anyone could say another word, the County Coroner rushed into the morgue huffing and puffing with shock and indignation.
“How is this possible?” he said.  He wiped his thin face with a white silk handkerchief. Sarah could see that even in a fridge like this morgue, the Coroner was perspiring profusely.
“How could such a thing happen?” he continued, “The Inspector just told me. I only saw the body just some thirty minutes ago.”
And thirty minutes would give Vivien de Gallois-Llewellyn plenty of time to engineer a disappearance, thought Sarah.
Again the young woman smiled to herself.
“I’m becoming quite a cynic in my old age,” she thought wryly. But she would not have put anything past her stepmother. Not even this. What game was Vivien playing now?
Sarah suddenly felt a great wave of exhaustion beginning to overwhelm her. She got up from the metal chair and looked at her two companions.
“Can we get out of here?” she said, “I think we’ve had enough surprises for one day.”
The County Coroner looked at Sarah.
“Of course, of course, Miss Llewellyn. You must be chilled to the bone in here.”
Sarah nodded and the party walked to the door and out of the brightly lit morgue. The Coroner led them through his office.  Sarah almost collided with Inspector Rice pacing up and down the room deep in thought.
Peter St. Owen looked at the detective.
“Inspector Rice,” he boomed, “I don’t think you have any grounds to detain Miss Llewellyn or my grandson any longer. We would like to be driven home, if you please. The hour is getting late.”
The detective looked back at the old man.
“But I have to take a report from Master Hugh here at the police station.”
“That can be done in the morning,” replied Peter St. Owen. “Besides, you have no body. Are you quite sure that it was that of Mrs. Llewellyn, Inspector?”
Sarah was amused to see the detective bite his lower lip in frustration and anger. But facts were facts. There was no evidence, no matter what the police said they saw. Questioning could indeed be kept until morning.
Hugh St. Owen broke in.
“Inspector Rice, I’m sure my father has not yet been informed as to my whereabouts. Could you please drop me back at my house? I will come and give you a full statement in the morning. That is, if you still require one.”
The detective nodded silently in reluctant agreement.
They all piled back into the police car. Peter St. Owen sat up front with the Inspector. Hugh St. Owen sat next to Sarah in the back seat.
As the car drove through the dark, damp streets of Perris, Hugh grasped Sarah’s hand and squeezed it gently. Sarah turned to look at her companion. His sexy frame was silhouetted in the half-light of the street lamps reflected in the car windows.
The handsome young man then lifted Sarah’s hand to his lips and planted the most gentle of kisses on her fingers.
The pressure was almost as light as gossamer on Sarah’s hand. Yet again the hot fires of passion stirred in her breasts. Sarah felt a wave of emotion well up inside her. She could not help herself. She flung herself into his manly arms and held him tight.
“Oh, Hugh,” she whispered.
Tears of exhaustion and humiliation started to trickle down Sarah’s lovely face.
“There, there, Sarah. Sssshh! Everything will be all right,” Hugh whispered back.
Peter St. Owen turned his head around from the front seat.
“Miss Llewellyn, are you all right?” he thundered in his stentorian voice. Sarah did her best to stifle her sobs.
“She’s exhausted, grandfather,” replied the young man. “She’s been through a terrible ordeal.”
“That she has,” said the old man. He nodded his head. “We’ve got to get you tucked into bed as soon as possible, young lady. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“We all have,” chimed in Inspector Rice.
In a few more minutes the car had reached the St. Owen residence. Hugh St. Owen unwillingly relinquished his precious prize. Sarah had almost fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion leaning on his shoulder.
Hugh planted a hasty kiss on Sarah’s full, red lips and in a moment he was gone.
Sarah curled up feeling tired, worn and miserable. She finished the journey back to Peter St. Owen’s cottage in a sleepy haze.
The detective thankfully did not linger. In just a few minutes, after bidding goodnight to Peter St. Owen, Sarah threw herself fully clothed onto the comfortable guest room bed and fell fast asleep.
 

*************************************************************
 

The baying wolves surrounded her again. She was still freezing in the light negligee. Steam from her mouth broke through the mist of the cold winter dawn. She backed away. She clutched at the clammy ivy protruding out of the Abbey stone walls. The sound of the wolves’ howling grew louder. She could see evil yellow eyes and menacing gray shapes peering out of the white vapor. Once again one of the pack lunged and tried to grab the hem of her nightdress. Sarah screamed in terror. Then brown liquid eyes bored into her very being. Sarah buried her head in the warm, soft chest hairs of the magnificent Knight of Chivalry. Her heart was beating frantically. He looked down and buried his mouth in her lusciously full breasts. Sarah heaved a sigh of relief and desire. This was what she wanted. This is what she craved…”

Sarah abruptly woke up. Her eyes sprung wide open. That dream again, she thought. She was lying in almost total darkness, fully clothed on the guest bed in Peter St. Owen’s cottage. Something wasn’t quite right. She thought she heard a noise.
Sarah raised herself to a sitting position on the bed and looked around. As her head moved from one side to the other her beautiful green eyes grew even wider as she sensed something wrong. Sarah realized that she was not alone. As her eyes got used to the gloom, Sarah could make out another shape sitting at the foot of the bed.  It was the shape of a man.
“Mr. St. Owen,” said Sarah. She uttered a short gasp. “What are you doing in here?”
Surely the old man was just lonely, though Sarah. He couldn’t possibly intend to rape her. Besides, she was his guest. But why was he here?
The intruder made no answer. Sarah felt afraid.
Out of desperation Sarah looked around. Her eyes could just make out the shape of a bedside reading lamp by the side of the bed. She reached out for the light switch and switched it on.
The wattage from the small lamp was very low. It only lit up the area around the head of the bed. Dimly, in the gloom, Sarah could see that it was not Peter St. Owen who had entered her room. As she peered further, a pair of liquid brown eyes bored into her. Eyes filled with longing and animal lust.
Sarah raised a startled hand to her mouth.
“Hugh, what are you doing here?” she said. “How did you get here?”
A sexy voice answered her with one deep whisper.
“Sarah.”
Hugh St. Owen crawled over to where Sarah was sitting and pushed her body down. He motioned her to lie back upon the bed. Sarah could see that her companion was completely naked.
Sarah felt the familiar thrill of desire begin to ignite inside her body. The sexy young man’s body loomed over her own. His hands found Sarah’s bodice and he managed to slip them under her clothes. With extraordinarily deft fingers, he began to greedily massage Sarah’s breasts. The hot fires of yearning started to heat her body and her nipples immediately grew large and throbbed at her partner’s touch. Sarah reached out and grabbed the man’s enormous manhood. She stroked the head tenderly as he uttered a low, masculine growl. Her partner raised himself, his manhood thrusting forward. Sarah realized with increasing wonder that it was waiting for the caress of her full, red lips. Her heart beat wildly. This was wicked and yet sinfully delicious. It was an overpowering mixture of heaven and hell.  Sarah elevated her head slightly. She put out her tongue and nervously began to caress around the shaft of his desire. It was like nectar to Sarah’s heightened senses.  He pushed forward, begging Sarah to open up her luscious warm mouth and let him in.  Almost automatically, Sarah opened her mouth as wide as she could to let the hard, warm flesh gain entrance. Sarah’s tongue darted to and fro as her mouth caressed him. His rising passions had managed to force entry into her moist awaiting mouth.
The man’s growls of pleasure and lust grew increasingly louder. Sarah was almost afraid that they would wake up Peter St. Owen who was sleeping in the next room.
“More, Sarah, more!” Her partner almost yelled in a loud whisper. There was no mistaking the thick, Welsh accent.
An alarm bell immediately rang in Sarah’s head. She drew back at once, biting him as it ripped out of her mouth.
The man uttered a cry of pain.
“Oh!”
Sarah tore herself away from the intruder, almost tearing her clothes. She uttered one long loud scream!
 
 

She had just realized the horrible truth. This wasn’t her beloved Hugh St. Owen. It was David St. Owen, his crazy twin brother! How had the intruder managed to get into the cottage and into Sarah’s room? How had he known Sarah would be there?  Where was the body of Vivien de Gallois-Llewellyn and what evil game was she playing? How would Sarah reconcile her feelings of misplaced lust for the sex-mad stranger and the desire she felt for Hugh St. Owen? See the next exciting installment in Chapter 17 of Sarah Llewellyn and the Druid’s Curse!
 

Read Chapter 17: The Spider's Web
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