Grasso, Patricia Read Online Free

predator's grace. The heavier black-haired baron had deep-set blue eyes and moved in a lumbering gait.
    Given their pick, those perusing females would undoubtedly have chosen the earl who, as everyone knew, was richer than the pope. Baron Smythe usually lacked funds, though his intense gaze promised rewards more valuable than gold.
    "Both Lady Mary and Lady Jane have been pestering me about your arrival," Willis Smythe said as they entered the main building's foyer. "How will you juggle two mistresses in the same house without getting yourself into trouble?"
    There was no reply. Smythe turned when he realized his friend had paused.
    Richard stood in the middle of the foyer and watched a passing young lady. When she recognized the earl, the blond-haired beauty stopped, curtsied in his direction, and smiled winsomely. After undressing her with his smoldering emerald gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her slippered feet, Richard winked suggestively at her.
    "Lady Sarah is looking especially lovely," Richard remarked, watching her walk away.
    "Is she destined to become your next mistress?" Willis asked. "Or will that greatness elude her?"
    Richard glanced sidelong at his friend. "You know, Will, I never dally with unmarried women."
    "Devereux!"
    Richard turned at the sound of his name and waited as the Earl of Leicester approached them.
    "Welcome to Kenilworth. The queen is resting after the morning hunt," Dudley said. "Shall I have your arrival announced?"
    "I'd prefer to wash the dust from my face before I see Her Majesty," Richard replied. "Tell Burghley I'm here with important information."
    "Not bad, I hope."
    "On the contrary, quite good."
    "What is it?" The words slipped out of Leicester's mouth before he could bite them back.
    Richard stared at him, a stare that told the older man the information was no business of his.
    "Housing the royal retinue does create a crowding problem," Dudley said, recovering himself. "Smythe and you will share a chamber."
    "I understand," Richard replied, his intense dislike of the pompous earl evident in his polite expressionless response. Without another word, he turned his back and walked away with Willis Smythe.
    Had he glanced back, Richard would have caught a deadly expression etched across his host's face. The Earl of Leicester, possessive of the queen's affection, harbored no fondness for the Earl of Basildon. In fact, the older man eagerly awaited the arrogant upstart's comeuppance.
    "Here we are," Willis said, opening a door.
    Richard followed him inside and looked in disgust at the closet posing as a bedchamber. "I should have known Dudley would see me ensconced in the worst chamber at Kenilworth. Call a servant, will you?"
    Smythe opened the door and hailed the first passing servant. "You, girl, get in here!" he barked an order.
    A pretty serving girl stepped nervously into the chamber. Richard read the anxiety in her expression and smiled to put her at ease.
    "I'd like something light to eat and a pan of warmed water for washing," Richard said, his voice a soft caress, soothing the girl's worry. "Would that be possible?"
    Mesmerized by the handsome earl's smile, the girl stared at him and said nothing.
    "Miss?" Richard prodded, pressing a coin into the palm of her hand.
    "I'll take care of it right away, my lord," she said, recovering herself, then hurried away to do his bidding.
    "Whenever I order a servant, the service is poor," Willis complained. "But when you give an order, the wenches trip over their own feet in their haste to please you. Why is that, I wonder?"
    "You haven't been paying attention," Richard said, removing his dusty doublet and tossing it aside. He sat on the edge of the cot and yanked his boots off. "A world of difference lies between a simple request and an order."
    "What do you mean?" Willis asked, sitting on the opposite cot.
    "Give a woman what she wants, and in return she'll move mountains to please you," Richard told him. "Reading a woman's