Journey's End (Gilded Promises) Read Online Free Page B

Where had he seen her before? The image wavered just out of reach. And every step he took toward her made him the kind of man he thought he’d never be. He froze but couldn’t look away.
    She caught him watching her. Lifting her eyebrows a mere fraction, she stared back at him without flinching or demurring.
    Despite the boldness of her gaze, she presented a fascinating blend of innocence and purity of character, the perfect image of a woman with limited means doing her best to survive a harsh world.
    Therein lay the problem.
    The picture was all wrong.
    This was no ordinary down-on-her-luck lass seeking a better life in America. Jackson recognized the look in her eyes, the same one he saw in the mirror every morning. This woman with the stunning face and remarkable eyes had plans.
    Big plans.
    Jackson understood all too well what it meant to pursue life with a specific goal in mind, to work tirelessly to seek a change in circumstances despite the odds against succeeding.
    Perhaps he would . . . There was just enough time to go over and . . . do . . .
    Nothing. Jackson would do absolutely nothing because, just as he’d sensed in the woman across the street, he had his own plans. Big plans that required unwavering focus on his part.
    He would not compromise his honor, not even for a seemingly harmless conversation with a beautiful stranger.
    Honor and duty, these were the principles he lived by on a daily basis, the very things that set him apart from his wayward father. And thanks to Edward Montgomery’s shameful act, Jackson could never forget, not even for a moment, that honor and duty were all that mattered.
    Back on track, the brief moment of recklessness gone, Jackson swung his gaze away from the woman and continued on his way.
    He had an appointment with a shady landlord to attend to. And now more than ever he relished the prospect of setting matters to rights.

Chapter Three
    No longer trapped in the stranger’s probing stare, Caroline finally remembered to breathe. Needing a moment to regain her equilibrium, she pretended grave interest in her surroundings. Yet, no matter how hard she focused on choosing the safest route for her and Mary, Caroline’s mind kept drifting back to the handsome stranger and their disturbing encounter.
    Even from a block away, when she’d first caught a glimpse of him, something about the man had called to her, compelled her even. She’d felt a strange connection, different from any she’d felt before, one that went deeper than mere physical attraction.
    Dragging in a sharp pull of air, Caroline cast another quick glance in his direction, just in time to watch him pass by a mere five feet away. The smell of leather, wood, and spice wafted around her, a pleasant distraction from the foul stench of the marketplace.
    As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned his head in Caroline’s direction— again —and their gazes locked— again .
    She forced herself to remain calm, to consider him with an objective eye, as she would if she were sizing him up across a gaming table. The man was more than handsome. He was devastating. With a little thread of danger around the edges that caused Caroline’s heart to thump against her ribs. His hair was dark, nearly pitch-black, his eyes a piercing blue-gray, his features strong and undeniably masculine.
    She immediately broke eye contact and tried not to sigh—she was not the sighing sort after all—but . . . oh, my .
    He was clearly wealthy, as evidenced by his expensive clothing, but he was like no man of considerable means that she’d ever met. This was no self-serving wastrel or bored member of the upper classes. He would make a worthy opponent across a gaming table, or anywhere else for that matter.
    Mary stumbled, drawing Caroline’s attention back to where it belonged. As she steered the girl around a cart loaded with day-old bread, a disturbing thought arose. What if the rest of the wealthy Americans were of the same ilk as the