Shana Galen Read Online Free

again. Sweet boy. He didn’t mean it, of course, but it was a lovely compliment. She smiled, and for a moment, she forgot about Winn and the girls and the thousand household matters she needed to attend to, and just danced.
    ***
    Winn would have liked five minutes alone with the puppy dancing with his wife. The man—boy—was ogling her as though she were a candied violet offered on the supper table. And what man wouldn’t ogle her? He hadn’t even recognized her for a full five minutes, and he had been searching for her. He’d never seen her wear red before. He’d never seen her color so high or her hair in such fetching disarray. This was not entirely true. He had seen her looking thus once or twice.
    But not lately. Not in a long, long time.
    The shot of lust he felt when he saw her all but knocked him over. And before he had the chance to feel guilty for lusting after a woman who was not his wife, he realized it was indeed his wife, and then anger quickly replaced lust. What was she thinking, coming to the Ramsgate ball with her bosom all but on display? Whom was she trying to seduce? Not him, obviously. Clearly, she hadn’t known he was coming, and she never wore seductive gowns when he accompanied her. Usually she wore… well, he could not remember what she wore, because he had not accompanied her for some time, but he was certain it was something far more subdued.
    He would have gone after her, dismissed the puppy and danced with her himself, but he spotted the man in black entering through the French doors, which were open to the garden. Winn swore. He was going to have to deal with the thug, and he couldn’t do it in the middle of the ball. He would have preferred to return to the garden, but the man in black had spotted him and was making his way across the crowded room.
    Lady Ramsgate was a close friend of his wife’s, and Winn had been in the Ramsgate town house on several previous occasions. He knew the layout and made for the servants’ stairs. The top floors of the house should be deserted. The servants were likely to be busy with all the ball entailed and would not occupy the upper floors at present. Winn moved slowly, wanting to ensure the man in black saw where he was headed and followed. When he felt certain he had been spotted, Winn raced to the third floor, exited into a corridor leading to the bedrooms, and glanced about for a spot to hide.
    There was nothing. No potted plant, no chair, no Chinese folding screen. He tried the door nearest him and cursed when it was locked. He raced to the next one. Locked, of course. Where the devil was his luck tonight? He was awful at picking locks—hands too big—but he could use brute force. He took three large steps back, inhaled slowly, then ran for the door, leading with his shoulder. He rammed it, bounced back, and shook his head. His shoulder throbbed, reminding him no part of him was as young as it used to be. Winn examined the frame, saw he’d done some damage, and stepped back again. He eyed the servants’ door to the stairwell, knowing he was almost out of time.
    With a groan of dread, he rammed the door again. This time he separated it enough to kick it in. He was inside the room and stumbling about in the darkness, leaving the door open a sliver. He stepped behind the door and waited for the man in black to find him.
    Winn heard him before he saw him. He was moving quietly down the corridor, approaching the open door. Winn held his breath and prepared to strike. The door opened slowly, the creak of the hinges like a scream in the silent darkness. Someone peered into the room. “Is anyone there?”
    Too late, Winn realized it was a servant and not the man in black. He tried to pull his punch, but it struck the man on the side of the head and brought him down. The servant muttered an oof and went slack.
    “Bloody hell.” Now where was the man in black? Winn bent, checked the servant, and was relieved he was unconscious. The last thing he