The Darkest Sin Read Online Free Page A

strangest feeling, this desire to absorb the heat and smoothness of his skin beneath her palms, to imagine his hardness next to the softness of her body, his nakedness one with hers. She stilled her breath, trying to stop the flow of images, the chafing of her blood. Wherever were those thoughts coming from? Familiar and terrifying at the same time. Her head began to pound, her pulse fluttering in her throat. She had to stop this now .
    Rushford was facing her. Facing the screen, Rowena reminded herself in a panic, watching one large hand grasp his breeches, inching the material down over lean hips. His eyes were hooded, yet Rowena sensed he was staring at her, through the screen, and into her eyes, prepared to call her out.
    Her shoulders ached with the strain of standing perfectly motionless. Now was the time to say something, to reveal herself, but it was already too late.
    His voice was deep, gravely. “How long do you intend to remain unannounced because, rest assured, I don’t disrobe for simply anyone,” he said.
    Nothing she had read in the broadsheets, or conjured in her feverish imagination, had prepared her for this encounter. And it was then she realized the full force of what she had set in motion with this strangely powerful man, a portrait of contrasts, a combination of overwhelming physicality and concentrated intellect. All of it, suddenly, focused upon her.
    Meredith and Julia , Rowena reminded herself. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the screen.

Chapter 3
    R egret. Like the metallic taste of blood, it left a bitter taste on one’s tongue.
    Christ, Miss Rowena Woolcott was young. Rushford had forgotten, or more precisely had willed himself to forget. Until now, as she stood on the faded aubusson rug of his bedchamber, wide eyed and without a hint of recognition in that expressive, beautiful face. He swore silently, fluently, all the while considering his rapidly narrowing options like the virtuoso card player and pugilist that he was.
    â€œI shan’t bother with useless apologies, sir,” she began in that low voice that was an unsettling, indelible combination of innocence and sin. Emerging from behind the dressing screen, clasping her hands to her waist, she met his gaze with a boldness bordering on desperation, studiously ignoring the fact that she had not only broken into his home but also interrupted the intimate process of his disrobing. “I had little choice but to meet with you this way,” she continued. “Please hear me out before you seek to bundle me onto your doorstep.”
    Rushford proceeded carefully, taking quick account of her questioning eyes, the downturn of her full mouth, to confirm that she had yet to recognize him. No small wonder, given the circumstances. He kept his mind deliberately blank, disinclined to dissect the exact state of his memories. “I take it that you are not here to make off with the silver,” he said, sweeping up the shirt he’d discarded and shrugging it on. Ironic that it was he, a decade her senior, a man who had had countless lovers over several continents, who felt the pull of modesty. “Shall we proceed into the drawing room for this discussion?”
    Her eyes widened. They were a dark, impossible blue, he recalled with heavy reluctance.
    â€œOh, no, I beg of you,” she said. “I should prefer to remain discreet. I should rather not have any of your servants alerted to my presence.”
    Subterfuge was a hallmark of Rushford’s existence. It always had been, a mordant reminder of a life spent in shadows rather than light. “Then at least sit down,” he said. She startled, stiffening her shoulders, when he moved across the room to drag the chair out from behind the dressing screen. “I won’t ask how you managed to enter my town house without arousing suspicion.”
    â€œI prefer to stand, sir,” she said, ignoring the proffered seat and backing away