A Dangerous Man Read Online Free Page B

wrist. "For what sort of biddable miss would visit
a man, alone in his lodgings, at night."
    Dressed in rags, his gaze said, as he glanced down her person,
though he did not speak the words.
    So much had changed in the last few hours, she had not
even realized she still wore the same paisley frock as she had
worn this morning, wrinkled and stained from her visit to the
foundling home. No doubt he was usually surrounded by elegant women with their satins and lace.
    A moment of feminine vanity caught her wishing she'd
donned a more flattering dress, one that highlighted the gold
of her hair and the green of her eyes.
    She thrust the foolish thought away. She was not here to attract his attention. She needed to convince him to withdraw
his proposal, but he was talking circles around her.
    Not to mention what he was doing with his hands, his
thumb circling over her palm. The sensual motion set off a
dull ache in her belly, a fluttering of her pulse, a rapidity of
breath that left her quite dizzy.
    "It is a decidedly dangerous and foolhardy action," he said,
his low voice wrapping around her. "Then again, what does
your reputation matter, given that we are already betrothed?"

    He thought she had come here for seduction. Of course,
what else would he think when she had yet to say a word?
    "Come, come, Miss Jamison. Do not be shy. There is no
shame in wanting to get to know your betrothed."
    "For your information," she said, finally gaining control of
her senses, "I have come here to tell you I cannot possibly
marry you" She pulled her hand from his grasp, then linked
her fingers together to keep him from reaching for her again.
    "Why ever not, Miss Jamison? Is my title not high enough?
Do you, perhaps, aspire to be queen? Unfortunately, our dear
king is already married." He tilted his head and stroked a finger
along his beard-roughened jaw. "Twice, actually, though he
denies one and tries to shed himself of the other. So perhaps
there is hope for you, after all. It might not be a prudent match,
but I do think your dowry would tempt him."
    Outrageous, as he had no doubt meant it to be. She was
tempted to laugh. She wished she could think of something
equally sardonic, cutting and witty, but she had no wish to
bandy words with this man. "I have no desire to marry you,
sir, and, I am quite convinced, you have no desire to wed with
me. If you would only withdraw your offer-"
    "Now there you are wrong, Miss Jamison. I do wish to wed
with you"
    "Why? Why could you possibly want to marry me? You do
not even know me"
    "For the usual reasons, Leah. I may call you Leah, may I
not? As we are about to wed, we need not stand on formality. Please, call me Richard."
    "What are the `usual' reasons, Your Grace?"
    Her refusal to use his given name brought forth a low
chuckle. "As your father so eloquently phrased it, Leah, you
are pretty enough to look at .. " His sultry gaze made a languorous sweep from her eyes to her throat, to the swells of her
bosom, which suddenly seemed too much exposed, though she knew the cut of her dress was modestly demure. "... but
your dowry is the real prize."

    His face betrayed not a hint of emotion, but his voice came
out husky and low. His swift inhalations seemed to match the
pace of her own frantic breathing.
    She glanced pointedly around the room, noting the Flemish tapestries, the Persian carpets, the Roman antiquities.
"Yes. I can see where you desperately need my money."
    The treacherous man smiled. The rigid planes and forbidding frown of the cold and arrogant nobleman melted away,
revealing a hint of the boy behind the man, a mischievous
rogue with dimples and laugh lines framing his eyes. "I admit
I do not have pockets to let, but one can never have too much
of the ready...
    His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned toward her,
bringing his mouth so close to hers, she could feel his breath
upon her lips. "Leah"
    She found herself unable to move as her