Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 04] - Love's Duet Read Online Free Page A

about!" the servant shouted. "Get down here and help!"
    She wondered if he always addressed his master's guests in such a fashion and decided he was either mad or drunk as a walrus.
    "
Will
you get down here—or must I drag you?"
    Given pause by that irate snarl, she looked at him again. He was
reaching for an errant sheet of music, but she glimpsed black, wet hair
and darkly scowling eyebrows. She had best placate the lunatic. She
walked reluctantly to the steps. He thrust a sheaf of wet papers at
her. "Since you cannot take 'no' for an answer, make yourself useful,
girl! Put these under your cloak."
    Sophia stared. The unbelievable impudence of the fellow!
    He waved his salvaged collection at her impatiently, then burst into
a torrent of French, so rapid that she caught only the beginning, which
conveyed the information that she was totally wits to let, and the
ending, which was a pithy "
ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute
!"
    She regarded him with the hauteur that had shattered many a too persistent admirer. "Were it up to me, sir,
my
first step in this house would be to discharge
you
!"
    "God!" he groaned. He came slowly up the steps. Sophia looked down
into a lean, finely chiselled face, possessed of a straight nose, firm
chin, and the most unusual eyes she had ever seen, wide and deepset,
and of a clear, light turquoise colour. She had heard someone speak of
such eyes and now remembered silly little Brenda Smythe-Carrington
mooning over her latest "true love."
    "Cam" somebody or other, whom she had described as "the handsomest
man in London." Whoever Brenda's Cam may be, thought Sophia, slightly
dazed, he would surely be put in the shade by this man! She stood
motionless, her own features shadowed by her hood, watching the rain
drip off the end of that slim nose and course down the aquiline
features.
    "Put these under your cloak!" he repeated with tight-lipped emphasis.
    Finding her voice, she said, "I most assuredly shall not! They are muddy."
    "Of course, they're muddy! Largely because you left the blasted door open! I'll buy you a new dress, girl! Do as you're told!"
    "No!"
    For an instant, he stood still, then stepped even closer. Those
incredible eyes were hard and cold, his beautifully shaped mouth
curving to a terrifying smile. Speaking very softly, he said, "Put…
these… under…"
    She grabbed the sheets and thrust them under her cloak.
    He turned away, muttering a sardonic, "
Voila! Coup de maître
!"
    As soon as he reached the lawn, Sophia made a mad dash across the
terrace, passed a wide central court between the two wings of the house
and, at the far side, found to her inexpressible relief a door that
admitted her to the dark hall.
    She ran a little way, slowed, and stopped. It was very dark in here,
and the quiet held an odd brooding. Darkness had always terrified her,
and she knew suddenly that someone, something, watched her. Her heart
fluttering, she began to back away. Something touched her elbow, and
she almost fainted from shock.
    "I am persuaded, ma'am," said that same deep drawl, "that I have
been most rude to a poor soul not in possession of her full faculties.
You have been misinformed as to our needs. I shall provide
transportation for your return to the village if you will be so good as
to come this way."
    She felt weak with relief and, ignoring his sarcasm, followed his
tall figure back onto the cold, wet terrace. Long before they reached
the door to the lighted room, however, she was fumingly rehearsing the
speech she intended to make to her uncle about this obnoxious secretary
or music master, or whatever he was.
    He tried the door handle, muttered, "Confound it!" and gave the door a hard kick while roaring, "Horatio!"
    Sophia took an uneasy step back into the rain. The goose honked
behind her, tore past triumphantly as she jumped aside, and took refuge
behind a graceful Hope chair. The man stood aside, said a cool, "Your
Majesty," and swept her a mocking bow. Outraged, she marched in,