Under Her Brass Corset Read Online Free Page A

gave him too much,” Abigail said. “And what was it you asked him to do?”
    “He’s a troll, and—”
    “That’s not very nice.” A hint of annoyance sharpened her tone. “He didn’t accost us, and it must have been hard for him to swallow his pride and ask for help.”
    “Help?” Jasper laughed, adoring Abigail’s sense of compassion and her naïveté. “You don’t really think he was in need of help, do you?”
    “I don’t understand.” Her eyes sparkled with irritation and an inquisitiveness that suggested she was open to hearing about the realities of make-believe. It gave him a bittersweet feeling of possibilities he wanted to explore.
    “The man was a troll, the kind you’ve heard about in fairy tales. He wasn’t looking for a handout. His mission was to test us.” Although Jasper suspected it was more an assessment of him rather than Abigail.
    “Trolls don’t exist,” she scoffed. “And even if they did—what kind of test?”
    “A troll can give a person bad luck if he’s of a mind to. If I didn’t give him any money, I’m afraid he would have left behind the worst for us, especially you, since this is your house. Now he cannot.”
    “I didn’t hear anything about luck in the conversation. How do you and he know you were talking about the same thing?” The words were a backdrop to the beautiful way her mouth moved.
    He’d heard her talk many times over the years. This was different. Rather than his distance from the conversation, she was looking up, directing every word to him. A blend of sweetness and heat from her breath dusted his face. He recognized the sated calmness of her expression. It wasn’t as if he had seen her naked or engaged in sex with her fiancé. Yet he knew the look—it was reminiscent of the afterglow, making her eyes sparkle and her cheeks redden. A bout of protectiveness, a twinge of jealousy, he had half a dozen emotions for the way he’d felt then, and they were even stronger now. He liked her too much. Resentment for his immorality reared as he thought of the heartache he would suffer when he walked away.
    “How do you know he’s a troll and not just an unattractive, ungainly small man?” She pursed her lips, showing a wavering inflexibility to accept reality. The pucker hypnotized him as he considered how to soften her stubbornness with a kiss.
    “I know trolls,” he answered, focusing on the topic instead of the pink pliability of her lips. “A long time ago, I ran into some trouble and I needed a place to stay until the matter was straightened out. A friend introduced me to one of their kind, and I was invited to stay in the catacombs.”
    “What kind of trouble?”
    Her question surprised him. Had he taken her argument wrong? Did she believe in trolls and fairies and all things magical?
    “I’m sorry, that was rude. Of course it’s none of my business,” she said when he didn’t immediately reply. “And for your information, the catacombs under the city are uninhabitable.”
    “No need for apologies, you don’t know me,” he replied. “It’s natural to question my claims.”
    He didn’t like the hint of narrow-minded thinking. Abigail once had an imaginary friend when she was six. She talked to the invisible person just as she talked to him now. For Mr. Humphries to smother her openness to accept anything outside the mundane realm of her life further proved how good it was her relationship with that man was over.
    “Just because they are not of public usage doesn’t mean they aren’t occupied, Miss Thatch. I’ve seen them.”
    “Where?” Her eyes lit with instant wonder.
    “I can only say there are several entrances, mostly under the docks. The tunnels run deep beneath the streets.”
    “I knew Randolph wasn’t right.” A look of satisfaction kept a delightful smile on her face. “Not everything is as clear as black-and-white.”
    Inspired by her exuberance and eager to keep her curiosity stimulated, he added, “There is