When We Touch Read Online Free Page A

lowered to allow the riders to step down.
    One of the arrivals looked up.
    Maggie stared down at him, stunned.
    He wasn’t old. He was tall, and certainly, dignified. He had a head of sweeping, almost ebony dark hair. His features were hewn lean and clean, his jaw had a definite square and rugged angle to it. His eyes were large, color indiscernible from here, but his brows were sharply defined, and his mouth had a cynical sensuality. In a fitted waistcoat, cravat, and sharply tailored jacket, he appeared ruggedly well built, the elegance of his attire almost a sham over the magnitude of his physique.
    â€œWhy . . . he’s . . . gorgeous. Extraordinary!” Mireau breathed.
    â€œNonsense,” she murmured. But she felt a faint shiver along her spine and something more. Something she had thought dead and buried. The slightest stirring of excitement.
    Excitement . . . desire?
    Lord, no! She quickly chastised herself for such a wretchedly disloyal thought.
    And yet . . .
    â€œCan that be him? The Viscount?” Mireau marveled.
    Then, just as she realized that she had forgotten all about the draperies and that she was staring down at the man just as he was staring up at her, he smiled. And there was some kind of amusement and mockery in that smile. He made a slight bow to her, and stepped back.
    Another man appeared from behind him.
    Tall, and dignified. With strong features, and intelligent eyes.
    Ah, yes, he was tall. And certainly, dignified. Very elegantly dressed, yet he wore the cut of his clothes extremely well for his . . . maturity.
    His hair was as white as snow.
    But he did have a full head of it.
    His face, though one time fine, was deeply lined. Once broad shoulders were far more skeletal now. He was dignified, yes . . .
    And he was also older than God himself, so it appeared.
    â€œThat must be the Viscount,” she whispered hollowly.
    She was marrying a man who was all but a corpse.

Chapter 2
    Jamie Langdon noted every little detail about the house, his aggravation rising.
    Ah, yes. Genteel poverty. Fine enough in itself. Yet someone was being sold here to rectify the situation. And he couldn’t help but feel contempt.
    He’d met Justin often enough, in and around the Court, at balls, teas, and social affairs. He’d seen him frequently enough at a number of other establishments, as well. He’d liked Justin; a man of a pleasant enough countenance, he was polite and courteous, usually, but quick to defend a friend by both word and deed. He had been well educated, and in the presence of Eddy, the Duke of Clarence—heir apparent, after his father’s time on the throne was done, should Victoria ever depart this world—Justin had the ability to transfer his own knowledge to his royal friend, making it appear as if the man were far brighter than he was in fact. A decent chap.
    Except at the gaming tables. There, he went wild.
    This, then, was his home.
    He’d heard there was a sister. Gossip, of course, ran rife. She had swept the Ton by storm at her coming out, dazzling men and women alike. The former had idolized her, while most often, the latter had chosen to gossip about her. She had disgraced her station in life, ignoring all the noble and genteel young men, and falling into a wretched affair with a commoner—a policeman, no less—and that was a crime to many a man and woman with a title. She’d married the fellow. And then—other than the gossip that surfaced now and then about her strange activities—there had been little else.
    He’d been on the Continent, still in Her Majesty’s service, during the days when the young Lady Maggie had been the toast of the Ton. Therefore, he’d never seen the alleged beauty. Until now. And he had looked up, and seen her face in the window.
    To be fair, she was an outstanding beauty.
    But that Charles should have suddenly determined, at this late stage, that he must wed again, and a lass almost a