St. Raven Read Online Free Page A

recognize him, she must not show a hint of it!
    A new worry stirred. Would
he
recognize
her
?
    That would be disaster. She was merely the daughter of Sir Arthur Mandeville, however, minor nabob. She doubted most of the ton were aware of her existence. And anyway, a man desperate enough to become a highwayman would hardly have been dancing at London balls.
    More washing. Two thumps that were probably his boots. Her hearing was so sensitized by then, so frantic for detail, that she heard his stockinged footsteps as he came back to the bed.
    Now. Now it would happen. Fighting might be useless, but she’d fight anyway. When a hand grabbed her foot, she kicked.
    Something cold touched her ankle. She felt a sharp tug.
    Her legs were suddenly free, and she used them to try to push away from him.
    “Don’t be afraid.”
    “Why not? You’re a criminal!”
    “But of the more gallant variety.”
    She could tell he was coming no closer, so she stilled.
    “You really didn’t want to go on with Lord Crofton, you know.”
    “Oh, yes, I did.” She wished he’d take off the blindfold, but then didn’t. She mustn’t see his face.
    Silence, but then a weight settled on the bed not far from her feet. She flinched. She couldn’t help it.
    “Why?”
    “Why what?”
    “Why were you going willingly with Crofton?”
    “That, sir, is none of your business. Now kindly return me.”
    “You think he’ll be waiting for you by the road?”
    The lazy amusement made her want to scream with frustration. She
had
thought that, and it was ridiculous.
    “Of course not. You can take me to Stokeley Manor.”
    “Whereupon he will have me arrested.”
    “Take me close, then. I will manage on my own from there.”
    “I don’t doubt it.” After a moment, he asked, “Who are you?”
    Now what? He must assume that she was a light-skirt, so why the question? What answer would get her on her way? Everything,
everything
, hinged on getting to Stokeley Manor.
    He seemed to think he was rescuing her. So he’d let her go only if he believed her to be a hardened harlot.
    “Who am I, sir?” she replied in as bold and brittle a tone as she could. “Your captive, and yes, Crofton’s whore.”
    The bed moved again. Oh, Lord. He was lying down. Not touching her, but lying beside her…
    A hand brushed down the front of her gown. She flinched but managed to silence a protest. Presumably a whore wouldn’t mind.
    Would he feel her desperate heartbeats?
    That hand stroked up again, lightly past her breasts, shockingly against the bare skin of her chest, and then over her throat, trapping breath there. She stretched back, desperate to escape.
    “I won’t hurt you, my lovely one, but if you’re willing to serve Crofton, why not serve me for the night?”
    He suddenly rolled on her, pressed on her, hot, hard, huge.
    “No!” she screamed, trying helplessly to fend him off with her bound hands and skirt-tangled legs.
    He captured her wrists, and she felt lips on her fingers.
    He was
kissing
them?
    “Why not?” Such a light voice, as if she were not lighting at all. “I’ll pay your usual fee. I’ll pay double.”
    How would a whore react?
    “I’m very expensive.”
    “I’m very rich.”
    “And selective. I don’t go to just any man with guineas in his hands.”
    He chuckled. “I’m not just any man, sweet nymph of the night. You know, I’ve never had a whore refuse me before.”
    She recognized her mistake this time. Probably a whore never did refuse a man with guineas in his hands.
    Whore. She’d set off on this adventure prepared to be that, but only because she believed she could avoid it. Now here she was, assaulted, helpless, pressed upon by this vile man’s body and his will.
    Should she let him do what men do so he’d help her complete her journey? Bile rose at the thought, but she would let him, if it would work. It wouldn’t. He’d find out she was a virgin, and heaven alone knew what would happen then.
    Something brushed her