Lady in Red Read Online Free Page A

motion, her hands tightened on the copper tub and she pulled herself from the water. She didn’t even try to cover herself but stood fiercely, her defined, lean muscles tense. She was most definitely accustomed to being naked before men. But from the anger and apprehension crackling from her, he could tell she despised every moment of it.
    He should have left. Immediately. He was not one to force his company on women, especially vulnerable ones.
    But nothing could make him leave, not even if the building was burning to ash around him—not when he had to know who she was and why she was here. And he did need to know. The very demand echoed in his bones.
    Water sluiced her small frame and he winced at the austerity of her body. Damnation, she hadn’t been eating enough. Delicate was one thing . . . this was emaciation. And then there were the telltale chartreuse signs of healing bruises on her forearms and ribs.
    The sight filled him with anger so intense he had to close his eyes briefly and force the fury to still so that he wouldn’t frighten her.
    She vaulted out of the tub and darted toward the fire.
    It took him only a moment to realize she was going for the poker. But before she could reach it, her wet bare feet slipped on the marble before the grate and she plummeted forward, arms flailing as she desperately tried to catch herself.
    Edward sprang across the room. His arms circled her just as her head narrowly missed the iron grating that would no doubt have left her severely unconscious if not dead.
    The warm water soaking her body dampened his shirt and he could barely get a hold on her sleek skin. He held her carefully, his hands pressing into her back and taking all her weight, though her toes still skimmed the ground. She kept her hands folded protectively over her chest, not daring to touch him.
    Her violet eyes widened, wounded and old for a woman of her years. “Are you going to hurt me?”
    Her pulse thudded wildly, tangible beneath his fingertips. Her face had the aspect of a doe right before the hunters moved in for the final kill.
    The muscles along her neck strained as she attempted to keep her head up. Before she could protest, he slid one of his hands up to her nape and cupped it carefully.
    Two warring emotions brewed riotously within him. Sadness that her life had been so bleak and a sudden spark of hope. Perhaps she was the one who could shake him from his darkness. The one who could finally see justice done.
    “No,” he whispered, his voice rough to his own ears. “No harm will come to you by me. By anyone. Not now, not ever again.”
    “I don’t believe you.” The brittleness in her speech suggested she had had enough experience with cruelty to expect him to declare one thing and then do the very opposite.
    Rigid as the poker she had sprinted for, she remained frozen in his embrace. The only sound in the cavernous room was their breathing, ragged and sharp.
    Her words somehow found his heart. A heart he’d been so certain had vanished. She was a wise woman to be untrusting, but her wisdom had come from fear. Perhaps he should have let her go, but he needed to see her, to see deep inside the woman who had hypnotized him with her spirit. Nor was he ready to sacrifice this moment in which he suddenly felt so intensely for someone and it had nothing to do with sex.
    Though the ache in his chest commanded him to hold her for eternity, if he was to gain her trust, he had to let her go.
    Gently, he righted her so that her weight was evenly placed on her feet. He stepped back, restraining himself from trailing his fingertips over her soft skin. Though he wished to give her assurance with the stroke of his hands, more touch would most likely send a woman of her experiences lashing out in fear.
    So, instead, Edward Thomas William Barrons, Duke of Fairleigh, a man whose morals were as pristine as a London cesspit, turned away from her and lowered his gaze to the now wet, ornately woven cream-colored