What You Deserve (Anything for Love, Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

ribbons and pins. “So have you given Dodson permission to let her in?”
    “You should know I would never want a lady to leave here dissatisfied.” Chandler raised an arrogant brow. “It would be disastrous for my reputation. Now, don’t tear your gaze away from the stairs. Our beauty is about to make her entrance. Perhaps it might be my lady love, my heiress come to save me from a life as a dissolute rake.”
    Tristan did not envy anyone forced to make a late appearance. To descend a flight of stairs whilst a hundred pairs of eyes searched for every flaw or imperfection required a certain amount of courage.
    He stood next to Chandler and watched with interest. The blood pumped through his veins at far too rapid a rate. The hairs at his nape jumped to attention. He felt excited, alive.
    It felt so damn good.
    As the mysterious beauty came through the double doors at the top of the stairs, Tristan sucked in a breath. Dressed in a close-fitting black silk gown, her face obscured by a black jewelled mask, the lady was utterly captivating.
    “Most people believe black to be a morbid colour,” Chandler said, his eyes fixed on the lady before them. “Some would say it is rather dull and uninspiring. But I say it creates an air of wickedness, an element of intrigue that speaks to the hearts of men.”
    Tristan stared. “Hearts? Are you certain that is the word you wished to use?”
    “Watch how she scans the crowd,” Chandler said, his rich tone conveying the fact he found the sight highly stimulating. “Watch how she holds her neck defiantly, a warning to those who dare to question her right to be here.”
    “Do … do you know her?” Tristan struggled to force the words from his mouth.
    Chandler turned to look at him, his brows drawn together. “Are you telling me that you don’t? If so, I suggest you look a little closer. Indeed, her attendance here tonight is not a coincidence.” He turned his attention back to the lady on the stairs, rubbed his chin and said, “How interesting.”
    Tristan blinked, narrowed his gaze and stared beyond the glittering mask and rouged lips. Her ebony hair was tied back in a loose knot at her nape. The style was simple. It reflected a relaxed attitude, a lack of vanity so opposed to the sensual aura she radiated. As he noted the narrow shape of her chin, the creamy hue of her skin, he felt the familiar tightening in his abdomen that only ever occurred with one woman. Whilst her eyes were hidden behind the delicate mask, he would stake his life that they were a dark, chocolate brown.
    “Isabella.” He had not intended to say her name out loud.
    “Indeed,” Chandler said with a hint of intrigue.
    “What the bloody hell is she doing here?” Only one thought took prominence. Had she come to meet a lover? Jealousy slithered through him.
    Chandler cast him a look of disappointment. “What do you think she’s doing here? Lord above, all that time spent sleeping with monks has affected your brain.”
    “I was not sleeping with monks,” he snapped. He was not sleeping with anyone.
    “Do not underestimate the power of the pious,” Chandler chuckled. “Their holy essence lingers in the shadows waiting to numb the senses of unsuspecting gentlemen.”
    “Have no fear on that score. I am immune.” Tristan snorted. Chandler would be shocked to learn of all the things he had done whilst working for the Crown. “During my time in France, I committed many sins against the Lord. All in the name of justice, of course.”
    His work with Marcus Danbury had resulted in countless fights and brawls, often with pistols and swords, occasionally resulting in death. His wild escapades had moulded his character, made him the man he was today. Not the preened, pretentious prig he saw in the mirror, but the man strong enough to fight for a cause.
    “Well, I’m somewhat pleased to hear you finally found the courage to seek refuge in another woman’s arms.”
    Tristan turned to him. He could not