Julia London - [Scandalous 02] Read Online Free Page B

hers.
    He pressed close, his mouth next to her ear. He was heavy. Solid. “You sorely try my patience, lass,” he said gruffly. “Are you mad? Do you truly think you can harm me with that wee knife? You only vex me with it! Now listen to me! You are no’ the only one in this room who would be free of this bloody rotten predicament! If you will be easy and have a bit of patience, you and I might achieve our mutual goal, eh? Eventually, the scoundrel will free us, and when he does, we may free ourselves! But until that moment comes, you best learn to play a clever game to get what you want—no more throwing yourself out windows or pulling wee knives, aye?”
    “Get off me,” she hissed.
    “I will, and gladly. But allow me to offer a piece of advice, will you? A lady should never physically engage a man, for invariably, his thoughts will turn to another sort of tussle entirely.”
    Lizzie cried out with alarm, but the earl had already lifted himself off of her. Stunned, she rolled onto her back. Lambourne was standing beside the bed, his hand outstretched in a silent offer to help her up. Lizzie ignored him and rose from the bed, her mind whirling as she methodically straightened out her rumpled skirts. When she glanced up, Lambourne’s gray eyes were shining with amusement…and interest.
    Lord, but it was suddenly warm in this room. Heat swelled inside her, licking at her seams, looking for an escape. A little air might help things, and she glanced at the window.
    “Donna even think it,” he warned her.
    She frowned and carelessly tossed her shawl onto the bed.
    “Whom do you mourn?” the earl asked, his gaze flicking the length of her gray gown.
    “Why do they seek to hang you?” she retorted.
    He lifted his gaze; one corner of his mouth curved up in a wry smile. “It is naugh’ but a rather unfortunate misunderstanding,” he said. “Now it is your turn—whom do you mourn?”
    “My father,” she said, and slyly glanced toward the wall where he’d tossed her dirk.
    He followed her gaze, then nonchalantly walked to where the dirk lay, picked it up, and held it out to her.
    The gesture surprised her; she quickly snatched it from his palm, lest he think to take it back, and put her back to him. She bent over, gathered up her skirt, and slid the knife into her stocking again. When she turned round, he was smiling. He walked to the table and held up a decanter of wine. “Madam?”
    Lizzie shook her head. He poured a glass for himself and took a healthy drink before settling into one of the chairs at the table. “There is mutton stew if you’re of a mind,” he said, gesturing to the dishes.
    “I could no’ possibly eat,” she said, folding her arms implacably. She didn’t understand how he could remain so calm. He was more than calm—he was insouciant as he broke a chunk of bread from the fresh-baked loaf and ate it. He smiled.
    Lizzie looked anywhere but at him. His gaze was too intimate somehow, and it had the very disturbing effect of muddling her thoughts. She had no patience for muddling—she was worried to death about her sister, Charlotte, and she couldn’t imagine how she and Lambourne might possibly pass this night in the same roomwithout giving rise to all sorts of harmful speculation. What would her intended, Gavin Gordon, think when he heard the news she’d been handfasted of all things?
    He’d probably already heard of it, for that was precisely what Carson hoped to achieve—ruining her chances with Mr. Gordon.
    “My grandmother believed that a frown would become permanent if one indulged in it too long,” Lambourne opined.
    Lizzie glared at him. “I’ve quite a lot on my mind just now, aye? Really, milord, how can you be so…so jolly ?”
    “I am hardly jolly,” he said cavalierly, and propped his feet up on the empty chair. “But I see no point in fretting overmuch.”
    With his bread and wine, he’d made himself quite at home, and it riled Lizzie. “Who are you, really,