Sweeter Than Sin Read Online Free Page B

the stranger's eyes—a deep ocean blue, their depths dark as midnight sin.
    Sin. Kyra bit her lip. All men could go to the devil. She had learned her lesson about Spanish coin. Flatteries which lost their luster. Promises whose glitter proved false once they had bought what they wanted.
    No, she would not be seduced into thinking the Spanish stranger was nice, simply because he had a sweet smile and self-deprecating sense of humor.
    Nor would she think of chocolate, though the engravings she had seen of the cacao tree made it appear an appealing subject to paint. The fruit looked to have a variety of sizes and textures, with colors that ranged from ripe orange to lush purple. There was something exotic about it. Enticing.
    Shaking off the wicked, wanton tingle in her fingertips, Kyra paused by a thicket of gorse and carefully clipped a sprig of the prickly blooms. She would stick to less fanciful flora. Sweet dreams, like dark-haired strangers, could only lead a young lady into trouble.
    * * *
    "Your wood sprite was most likely the Duke of Pierpont's daughter. A sad story, by all accounts." Hendrie shook his head. "Rumor has it Lady Kyra is no better than she should be."
    Rafael could not quite puzzle out his uncle's meaning. "Sir?"
    "A wayward lass."
    "Wayward?" he repeated. "But she seemed quite sure of where she was headed."
    A ghost of a smile fluttered on Hendrie's lips. "Forgive me, Rafael. Your English is so good, I sometimes forget you may not know the nuances of the language. In plain speaking, what I meant is that the young lady is said to have surrendered her virtue. 'Ruined' is yet another way of putting it. But however it is said, the meaning is the same—she is now an outcast from Society, a shame to her family." The earl sighed as he swirled his brandy. "Pierpont must be devastated, with this tragedy following so closely on the heels of the other."
    "What other tragedy, Uncle Aubrey?"
    "The duke's younger daughter was killed in a riding accident. A midnight race over dangerous ground, instigated by her sister over some trifling wager. Lady Kyra has always been known for her wildness."
    Rafael saw the earl's expression shade with sorrow. "And yet, you speak as if you are fond of the young lady."
    "I am." Hendrie stared rather wistfully into the fire. "Jack thought her a great gun. Said she had more spirit and courage than most lads. If I recall, there were several times when she outrode him in some rush to adventure. And outfoxed him as well, leaving him to take the blame for their mischief."
    "She must be a clever lass to have bested Jack at his own game." Rafael, too, watched the flames lick up around the logs, feeling an odd sort of sadness for the young lady. A female who showed a spark of fire ended up getting burned, while a man was cast in a much different light.
    "It seems unfair," he said slowly. "Jack enjoyed the favors of many a señorita in Spain, and was only thought the better for it by his peers. Yet a young lady gives way to a moment of passion and she is ruined forever."
    The earl looked shocked at such sentiment, then thoughtful. "It has always been thus."
    "That does not make it right." Rafael frowned. No wonder she had shied away from his smiles. "After all, for the young lady to have erred, she must have had a partner. What is said of him in English Society?"
    "Oh, he is definitely considered a cad," assured Hendrie. "But from what I hear, Lady Kyra refuses to name the fellow."
    Steadfast loyalty, however undeserved, took courage, especially in the face of overwhelming odds. Rafael found himself liking her even more.
    His uncle looked slightly abashed at being privy to gossip. "It is not that I seek out such scandalous talk. But my housekeeper's sister serves in the same position at Pierpont Manor, and Mrs. Ganton does like to chat during our morning meetings." He sipped at his brandy. "In truth, I pay little attention to the details of Lady Kyra's disgrace, but I am pleased to hear that