Seduced At Sunset Read Online Free

when the thief was propelled backward through the air, as
if he had been rammed by a raging bull at full gallop.
    Glancing down at her rescuer’s big brawny fist and bloody
knuckles, then down at the lifeless form on the ground behind him, she
carefully asked, “Is he alive?” It would be a miracle if he were.
    “Yes.” The gentleman’s voice was husky and low, barely
more than a growl, and she was riveted to the spot. “I believe this is yours,”
he added as he stepped forward and held out her reticule.
    Charlotte stood utterly still as he drew near, for she
felt rather breathless. From a distance she had known he was a tall man, but
now she could sense—and feel— thelooming power of his massive male brawn. His chest was
thick, his shoulders wide, though his torso narrowed down to slender hips and
undoubtedly strong legs.
    “And this must be yours,” she replied, holding out his
pocket watch, which she had picked up on the street a moment before. “It still
appears to be working.”
    As they made the exchange, Charlotte felt a shiver move
through her. She wasn’t sure what caused it. She told herself there was nothing
to fear from this man who had subdued her attacker. Judging by the way he was
dressed in a fine black frock coat, silk top hat, and shiny black shoes, he was
a gentleman.
    Nevertheless, her head was spinning like a top, for there
was very little about him beyond his clothing that seemed the least bit
refined. He was coarse looking, like a laborer. Crude, even. And perhaps it was
the way he moved—with a dangerous swagger—that seemed particularly
threatening after what she had just witnessed.
    Or perhaps it was his rugged facial features. His eyes
were a pale shade of blue-gray, his nose was misshapen, as if it might have
been broken a few times in the past, and there were scars on his cheekbones,
and evidence of an old gash through one of his eyebrows. His upper lip was
scarred as well.
    He reminded her of a barbarian from another time. She
could easily imagine it—this man, with his huge, scarred, muscled body,
standing shirtless in battle, swinging a sword in one hand, wielding a dagger
in the other, his eyes burning with bloodlust. He was perfect...
    Stop it, Charlotte .
    “That was quite a punch,” she said. “How is your hand?”
    He flexed it a few times and looked down at his bloodied
knuckles. His fingers were thick. So were his wrists. “It’s fine.”
    “It doesn’t look fine to me,” she replied. “I daresay you
did some damage, on both sides.” She looked up and down the quiet street.
“Should we send for someone? A constable perhaps? Or a doctor?” The side of her
head was throbbing. A bump was probably forming already.
    “I was thinking the same thing,” he said in that husky,
mesmerizing voice. “I live just there.” He pointed at his townhouse, a few
doors down. “If you will accompany me, madam, I will send one of my servants to
fetch assistance, and I promise this man will be arrested.”
    “Is it wise to leave him here?” Charlotte asked. “What if
he wakes up and runs off?”
    “I will have him brought inside.”
    Then his eyes narrowed with displeasure and he took a step
closer.
    For some reason, Charlotte quickly backed away, as if he
had swung another punch, this time in her direction.
    “You’re hurt,” he said, not appearing the least bit
surprised that she had recoiled from him.
    “No, I’m not,” she insisted.
    He pointed to a drop of blood on her collar, and only then
did she notice a wet sensation on her scalp. The dizziness she experienced
earlier suddenly made sense, and when she slid her gloved fingers into her
upswept hair and felt a gash just over her ear, her stomach turned over. “I’m
bleeding.”
    For the second time that day, the world turned white
before her eyes, her knees buckled beneath her, and she began to sink toward
the ground.
    Though teetering on the muddled edges of consciousness,
Charlotte was keenly aware of the