Outlaw's Angel Read Online Free

her mouth, softly brushing the place where his lips had just been. Marisa stared up at him, her eyes wide and confused, her mouth trembling. Something like puzzlement and uncertainty came into his face, but it left just as quickly. Marisa leaped from his arms, turning guiltily around.
    “Shannon!”
    “There you are, Mari. Where have you been all this time?” Shannon’s mouth dropped as she spied Marisa’s companion. “Who?…”
    “I’m afraid I must be going. Good evening, ladies.” The man gave them both a mocking bow. Without waiting for a reaction, he slipped into the garden.
    Shannon watched him disappear, a frown crinkling her nose. “Who is he? Handsome as could be, I’ll give you that. And what was he doing here with you?”
    “One of the guests,” Marisa said, her face a strange mixture of embarrassment, fear, and a touch of regret. Shannon pressed her hand to Marisa’s forehead, amazed to find it hot and flushed.
    “Marisa! What happened? Did he hurt you? I’m going to call for help.”
    “No! He kissed me, that’s all.”
    “He kissed you! How shocking!” A smile grew on Shannon’s face and a teasing quality entered her voice. “How did it happen? What was it like?”
    “It was…it was quite wonderful!” Marisa blurted out, then immediately wished she’d kept silent.
    But it was too late, for Shannon was now determined to have the whole story.
    Reluctantly, Marisa described what had happened, leaving out only one detail, her own passionate response to the kiss.
    “Just like those penny novels. The rogue’s kiss!” She sighed. “Oh well, Mari. It will give you something to think about on your wedding night should Devon prove disappointing.”
    “I shouldn’t have let it happen,” Marisa said. The picture of herself in his arms would not leave her. She wondered if it ever would.
    Shannon laughed. “It was only a kiss. Devon need never know. Come on now, before Devon starts looking for you and you have to explain.” Marisa followed Shannon inside.
    The horse galloped off into the night, carrying his caped rider through the tiny winding streets into the main thoroughfare of London. Pausing only when he was far from the duke’s home, the rider’s breath expelled in a fog as he listened. Silence ensued. He could hear his own ragged heartbeat and the quickened breathing of his mount.
    Patting the horse affectionately, he cantered quietly through the town until he came to the King’s Tavern. The horse picked its way through the acrid gutter, down through an alley, and into a stable that lay behind the inn. A sleepy groom sauntered out, his whiskeyed face brightening.
    “Oh, it’s you, Gov. Old Higgins is in bed, ’e is. I’ll take care of your horse for ye.”
    “My thanks.” The man’s voice rang out, the harsh Scottish burr softened in the night air. He tossed a coin to the groom, then turned and walked slowly toward the tavern, his determined manner a sharp contrast to the frivolity that spilled from the windows of the inn. Stepping inside, he quickly scanned the room, passing through the gamblers and card sharks. A serving girl sauntered up to him, her painted lips curved into a broad smile.
    “Well, if it ain’t Scotty. What’ll it be, love?” She leaned closer to him, allowing him to enjoy the cheap perfume she wore and the view of exposed cleavage that her tight gown afforded.
    “Whiskey,” he said quietly. She winked and sashayed off, returning with the drink before he could obtain a seat.
    “Here ye are, love.” She slipped him the glass, allowing her fingers to subtly caress his. “Is there anything else I can do for ye?”
    Her meaning was clear, and the Scotsman gazed at her thoughtfully. But the wench’s hopes were dashed. “Just information. Do you remember the man I gamed with last week, a nobleman’s son?”
    “You mean Lord Woodruff? Tall man, with black hair and a roving hand?”
    “The very one,” the Scotsman said, satisfied. “Is he here