The Earl's New Bride (Entangled Scandalous) Read Online Free Page B

the morning. Who would venture out at this time of night—besides a man afflicted with what was quickly becoming the worst headache this side of the Thames?
    Setting down the brass holder, he placed his back against the wall, leaning a smidge past the edge where the hall intersected with another. If he hadn’t had his wits about him, he would have sworn a specter floated down the darkened corridor, a blur of white muslin…only those were legs carrying it over the carpet.
    And pale little fingers opening a door leading out to the garden.
    He glanced around the hall. Not willing to let the vision escape him, he followed behind, lifting the latch to the outside exit and walking out into the cool evening air.
    A bundle of white crouched over a plant, near glowing in the pale light cast by a full and bright summer moon. She was ethereal, almost fey-like, her dainty hands caressing selected stems with something akin to tenderness.
    She placed first one blossom, then another, into a small woven basket at her side. For a time, his pain receded, but as the breeze died, a sharp pain, like a blacksmith’s hammer striking an anvil, pounded his temple, causing him to inhale sharper than he intended.
    Her face tilted and she caught sight of him standing behind some pungent shrub.
    “My lord.” She said the words on a gasp of air. And for the first time he could see who was entrancing him at ungodly hours.
    Christ.
    His blood stirred, his pulse quickening at the sight of her face. Of all the girls in attendance, it had to be her. The one he was doing his best to forget. The one who made his head and other parts of his anatomy ache. For two entirely different reasons.
    “I-I-I—” She glanced down at her basket and up at him, her eyes widening.
    He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together as another wave of blinding pain crashed through his skull. He clasped the side of his head, the silk ribbon of his eye patch digging into the tender flesh at his temples.
    “Are you well?” Her words were naught more than a whisper, but they rang out like a deafening scream. Stars exploded behind his eyes.
    Cool hands rested atop his. His eye fluttered open to see her concerned pair peering into his. “Are you s-s-suffering from a malady of the head?”
    Her breath was sweet, tickling his nose and providing a small measure of comfort. But all he could do was close his lids and give a small nod, praying he didn’t fall against her.
    “I-I-I have something that will ease the pain.” Her hands left his, their chill and the relief that came with them, disappearing.
    His throat parched, he swallowed.
    “Here, chew this.” She returned with two green, citrus-scented leaves and held them up for his inspection.
    Simon removed a hand from his head to pinch her offering between his fingers.
    “Go on,” she urged. “It will help. I-I-I promise.”
    He placed the leaves in his mouth, their bitter flavor sharp on his tongue, and settled his hand back against his temple. The pain was…intolerable.
    Her hands swept across his forehead, her cool palms coming to rest atop his knuckles. “Keep chewing. They should bring some relief soon.”
    Slipping his left hand from beneath hers, he pressed her soothing palm against his temple. Simply having her cool flesh against his brought relief, the nimble touch of her fingers a comforting balm to his malady.
    He swallowed, the acrid flavor of the plant she had given him, while still fresh against his tongue, already dulling the pain that had near brought him to his knees.
    He stood there, her hands under his, a slight breeze stirring both the garden plants and Lady Henrietta’s plaited, raven hair, a few loose silky strands tickling his face. Minutes passed, five, ten—he didn’t know or care—his only concern the lifting of his intense headache and the relief wrought by the petite woman standing before him. Were it not for her knowledge of plants, he would have been bent over in agony.
    He slid his