The Spanish Outlaw Read Online Free Page A

answers now.
    “Would you like another drink?” he offered.
    “Surely you jest. After what your servant did to my companion, I’m skeptical about accepting any more refreshments from you.”
    When he took the poker and bent to stir the fire, his supple movements stretched beneath the fabric of his clothes, straining across his muscular frame. He was very well put together, and she couldn’t stop improper thoughts from flooding her mind. Silently she cursed and bunched her hands into fists.
    He stood and faced her. “So, mí dulce , what do you want to know about me?”
    “What does mí dulce mean?”
    “That you are sweet.”
    Her burning cheeks betrayed her stoic act, and she willed herself to gain control. If only she could find a way to control her blush… “I find it fascinating you were born and raised in Spain, a country I know little about. Tell me about your family and Spain.”
    He led her back to the opposite end of the sofa from where Margaret slept. Anton patted the cushion next to him. Reluctantly, she sat.
    Anton relaxed and crossed one leg over the other knee. “I am the only child, the male heir passing on my father’s name. In Spain, most large families are very close, but not so with my father’s. My uncle’s callous and greedy nature made it impossible to form any bond, and because of him, my father hired an army of men to protect our family and our inheritance. The small island we call home was given to my grandfather, Nicholas.”
    She arched a brow. This, she hadn’t heard. So perhaps he wasn’t the thief she was after. “An island you say?”
    “Padre Island.”
    “Are you wealthy?”
    He shrugged. “It depends on what you consider wealthy. Where we live, we are like kings, but here in America, I am considered a pauper.”
    “Indeed? Why, so?”
    “Because Spain’s way of life is so different. There we have ancient family treasures that only mean a lot to us. You would not understand their worth.”
    Her heartbeat picked up rhythm, and she sucked in a breath. Then again…maybe he was the thief after all. The conversation might well turn to talk about the jewels Anton had stolen from his uncle...the very man paying the Pinkerton Agency to find his nephew. “Do you have those treasures with you now?”
    “No. When I left home, I took only my clothes and a few personal belongings. Here in America, and wherever I travel, I carry with me no wealth other than my talent. To me , that is worth far more than any treasure.”
    A groan of defeat hung in her throat that she dared not release. She would not admit failure yet. No matter what it took, she’d get him to confess. “I agree. I have never heard a man with such a beautiful voice.”
    He folded his arms and stared at her. “Now we will talk about you.”
    Vivian straightened. “There is not much to tell. My life does not compare to yours. Besides, you haven’t answered all my questions.”
    By the narrowing of his eyes, he didn’t want to continue the conversation. Once again, her heartbeat quickened. She had to do something in order to discover if he was the man for whom she searched.
    There was no way around it. She had to use her womanly wiles on him, even as unskilled as she was at doing this. She must remember what her cousin had taught her about charming men. Could she charm him without being affected herself? Her mother had been a wanton woman, so maybe the daughter had this talent, also.
    After much hesitation, she touched his knee and leaned closer. “Please, Anton, tell me more about your home, about your estate.”
    His chest shook with silent laughter. “But I am not a story teller, Vivian.”
    “Just for a few minutes longer? Please?” She lowered her eyelashes. “Besides, I cannot return home until my companion awakens.” She displayed a pout, hoping it would work. This gesture always seemed to help other women get the upper hand with a man, so her cousin had told her.
    He laughed out loud this time. “Now