Under Her Brass Corset Read Online Free Page B

a whole world of interesting things to excite you.”
    “Yes, I know.” Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth.
    No one, not even Isabel, aroused him the way Abigail was, desire glowing in her gaze.
    Shaken by the escalating sexual tension, he swept his cape back, hooked a finger in the fob chain of his watch and pulled it out. “It’s late,” he stated, using the ungodly hour as a perfect reason to leave. “I should be on my way so you can go inside and get some sleep.”
    “I’m not at all—”
    “It was a pleasure to have met you, Miss Thatch.”
    “Tired,” she finished.
    Jasper hurriedly strolled away before Abigail uttered another word of deterrent to his departure. The urge to hold her threatened to overpower common sense. Her noticeable interest in him weakened his willpower. Even if he should decide to follow his heart, he couldn’t grab her off her porch and tote her to a bed.
    “Thank you,” she called in her angelic voice.
    The lilting sincerity wrapped him in the comforting warmth he had longed for and it trapped him from leaving completely. He stopped and looked back from the concealment of shadows. His soul ached with longing to know her. In all his life, the women he had associated with were ways to pass the time. Abigail was different. She made him see life as he had never looked at it before. Taking a step toward the beginning of something wonderful, he felt his heart beating with purpose.
    Then Abigail turned to go in the house. The darkness had prevented her from seeing his hesitation to leave. In those seconds, Jasper caught himself from succumbing to the easy way out of loneliness. He quickly spun around and marched away, vowing never to return.

Chapter Two
    The next night, late again, Abigail took the long route home, avoiding the alley. Even knowing that it had been Captain Blackthorn behind her the night before, she remained spooked by his story about fairy-tale creatures living in tunnels under the city.
    Trolls. She laughed, scorning the idea anyone other than criminals lived in a labyrinth of passages under the streets. Out of politeness, she had pretended to believe the captain about the catacombs. Now she looked at the walk beneath her feet and gave it longer thought. When she was small, she had once thought she felt a vibration of the ground in her backyard.
    “Not possible,” she said softly. It couldn’t be true. She shook her head, thinking how easily the captain had almost made her believe his ridiculous stories. He certainly had a gift when it came to charming her. Although that story about bad luck hadn’t seemed so incomprehensible after he had gone and she’d entered her house. The foreclosure notice the bank had slipped under her door wasn’t good luck.
    Abigail slowed as she neared the corner leading to the alley. The gas streetlamp lit the outline of a figure leaning against the building. Her heart pounded in fear. Turning back wasn’t an option, so she kept her head down and her gaze trained to the path before her. She took a deep breath and hugged her satchel to her body. Each step brought her closer to the alley’s opening. She listened for movement, hoping whoever lurked in the shadows stayed there.
    Her luck didn’t seem good when the figure sprang from the darkness. Immediately she reached for her skirt, prepared to hoist the garment and retrieve the knife in her boot.
    “Miss Thatch, we meet again.” The captain greeted her, his face coming into view as he stepped into the light of the streetlamp.
    “Captain Blackthorn.” She let out her startled breath and released her handful of fabric. Relief overpowered her rage at being frightened.
    It wasn’t his fault she felt stalked or that her imagination somehow kept getting the best of her. The night or being alone never gave her such worry before her father died. She’d always known how to take care of herself.
    “I thought after your fright last night, you might have gone home earlier, avoiding