Out Of Her League, An Erotic Romance Read Online Free Page A

imagined her lathered hands slowly moving up his thigh...
    “You’ve been a nurse for long?” he bit the question out.
    She glanced up at him in startled surprise at the abruptness of the question. “Yes. Several years now.”
    “One of Miss Nightingale’s ministering angels, I gather.”
    She gave a light shrug. “While I admire her work in the Crimea,” she replied, “I entered the profession in order to assist my father. He was a physician. I have two brothers at home, both of whom are surgeons. So I suppose the medical profession runs in my family.”
    Once again, James was struck by the soft, cultured cadence of her voice. “You must read your patient’s correspondence aloud to them,” he said, imagining her in a room full of sick and injured men, each of them hanging on to her every word.
    “Yes. That’s often part of my duty. I’ll do whatever is necessary to comfort my patients.”
    A wicked smile tugged his lips. Although her reply was innocent enough, when interpreted by someone of a more bawdy bent—such as James—a deliciously wanton spin could be put on her words. “Thank you, Nurse. I’ll be sure to bear that in mind.”
    “I hope so,” she said. She looked up at him and smiled. Her eyes, he now noted, shimmered with gold and green and brown. Hazel, he supposed they would be called. Striking eyes. Now if only he could see more of the rest of her...
    Lecher, James thought, chastising himself. He had no shortage of willing paramours, even in the sorry state he was in now. There was Vanessa, of course. And others as well, beautiful women who could discreetly satisfied his needs. But he hadn’t even thought of seduction until this sweet, guileless nurse had put her soft hands on his skin. Enveloped him with her warm breath and heady scent of lavender. Accidentally brushed her lush breasts against his chest.
    “It’s been too long,” he said aloud.
    “Wounds heal at their own speed,” she replied, misinterpreting his words. She opened a jar of mint balm and began using gentle, circular strokes to massage the ointment into his skin. The urge to grasp her hand and draw it upward was almost overpowering.
    Desperate to steer the conversation in the opposite direction of his thoughts, he said, “I’m afraid that will not suit my mother. She is determined I manage a decent waltz by the third of June.”
    A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “As least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
    “I only wish I were jesting. She’s planned a formal ball to celebrate my return. Apparently all of London is invited. I have no doubt the spectacle will be quite ghastly.”
    “Ghastly? That sounds quite lovely to me.”
    “Obviously you haven’t attended one of my mother’s grand balls.”
    The soothing motion of her hand stopped. She stood and capped the jar, then passed the ointment to him. “Thank you, Mr. Lancaster. I’m finished here. Your scars will itch as they heal. The balm will help relieve that annoyance. I trust you can manage to apply it by yourself.”
    While there was nothing objectionable to her tone, the warmth he had heard moments earlier had vanished entirely. The sudden change in her manner was doubtless a result of his clumsy phrasing. Damn. He hadn’t meant to imply she was of too low a station to warrant an invitation, but clearly that was how she had interpreted his words.
    In truth, he dreaded his mother’s forthcoming ball for reasons too complicated to share. First and foremost, he loathed the fact that that he would be hailed as a returning hero, when really it was nothing more than grim luck that had enabled him to survive the desperate charge that had taken the lives of so many of his men.
    Secondly, there was the pressing expectation that he and Vanessa would choose that occasion to announce their betrothal. That event seemed to be a foregone conclusion in everyone’s mind but his own. He wasn’t gullible enough to expect to love Vanessa, but that was