A Dangerous Man Read Online Free Page A

What of
Lady Montague?"
    Richard grimaced. No, Margaret would not be wellpleased. "She can find out with everyone else. I do not think
she could keep the secret"
    "You are truly going to marry this girl? What is she like?"
    Richard thought of sun-kissed hair and satin skin that
flushed so prettily. "I have no notion, but I am sure to find
out, more pity that"
    "Why? Why must you wed? Eric never denied Alison.
Even if Jamison spreads his tale, no one could prove it was
true"
    "But the damage would be the same, regardless," Richard
said, refilling his glass before stretching out on his chair.
"You know as well as I, the truth does not matter in the face
of the latest on dit. Alison's name would be bandied about like
so much garbage. And when she is old enough to make her
come-out, it would all start again."
    Their whispers would precede her into every room, and
follow her out again when she departed. She would spend her
life the object of malicious speculation and gossip, knowing her parents had betrayed her, as they had betrayed everyone
around them.

    Richard would not let her suffer that.
    He'd rather wed the Jamison chit. Perhaps, after the deed
was done, he would simply stash her away at his Cornish
estate and forget he ever met her. Yet even as the thought took
shape, a vision of her tumultuous green eyes rose in his mind
and he strongly suspected she would not be easy to forget.
    A rap on the door broke the silence.
    "Enter," Richard commanded.
    The butler stepped inside the room. "Pardon me, Your
Grace. A Miss Jamison is here. She begs a moment of your
time on a matter she says is quite urgent"
    Richard told himself the sudden surge in his gut was anger.
He certainly wasn't eager to see her again.
    "Where is she, Harris?"
    "In the gold salon, Your Grace"
    "You will have to excuse me, Geoffrey. My anxious bride
awaits." He drained the remaining liquid in his glass, then
rose and walked on not-quite-steady legs to the door.
    Damn. He was a trifle foxed. Perfect.

     

Chapter Four
    The moment the duke strode into the room, Leah realized
she'd made a dreadful mistake. The sardonic lift of his brows,
the insolent curve of his lips, the raw, unleashed power as he
moved, all warned her exquisite civility was gone.
    His bold gaze swept over her person in a languid perusal
that was as scandalous as it was shocking and made her skin
burn as if she were bundled up with hot coals.
    He did not stop walking until the tips of his boots touched
her leather-clad toes, until she breathed the exotic scent of his
skin, a sensuous, mysterious blend of jasmine and amber and
spice. As much as it irked her to show any weakness, she took
a step back, needing to put distance between them.
    Arms crossed over his chest, he leaned on his heels and
watched her retreat through his smoky black eyes.
    Firelight flicking red and gold shadows over his face made
him appear more than ever the underworld lord. His hair was
disheveled, as if tossed about by the wind.
    "Miss Jamison," he said. "I find myself ... surprised."
    This was her moment to convince him they could not possibly suit, but she only just realized he'd left off his neck
cloth, and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a dark, intriguing shadow at the base of his throat.

    She forced her gaze off to his left, to the burnished gold,
damask-covered walls, to the crimson brocade draping the
windows. The luxurious appointments confirmed her worst
fears.
    The duke did not need her money.
    Her father had tricked him into the match. But how?
    "And a bit puzzled," he continued, his voice coldly mocking, yet infused with a smoldering sensuality. "Your father assured me you were as `sweet and biddable as you please."'
    This was an ill-conceived plan, she realized that now. Still
she had to convince him to withdraw his proposal.
    "But I fear he might have misled me," he said. He took her
right hand in his, his fingertips feathering over the sensitive
curve of her