“Hello, sweeting,” he said, pulling her against him from behind and breathing down her neck. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Joan froze. Licorice and brandy. Even as her stomach rolled, the sound of Sir Phillip’s voice conjured up the darkest memories of her worst nightmare—one that had been real—and filled her with an icy, mind-numbing terror. Taking advantage of her shock, he pulled her into the storage room where he must have been waiting for her to pass by.
