Too Sinful to Deny Read Online Free Page B

Why don’t you look surprised?”
    “Of course I’m not surprised. You never have a weapon handy.”
    A growl ripped its way up the stairs. “As luck would have it, I do not require one in order to commit murder. Stop dancing around the subject. What do you know?”
    “Nothing.” Ice clinked, then sloshed. “Brandy?” Glass shattered against a wall. “I’ll assume that’s a no.”
    “ Dead, Ollie. Dead.”
    “Right. My condolences.”
    “Your con—ah, will you look at that. I do have my pistol with me.”
    Dead silence.
    If there was one thing Susan Stanton had learned as a result of the regrettable circumstance that had gotten her expelled from Polite Society the Season before, it was when to keep listening at keyholes and when to flee the premises.
    This situation clearly called for the latter.
    Unfortunately, as she could neither find her way to the original staircase nor back to her bedchamber, the stairs before her remained the only possibility of reaching the front door. They also provided the highest probability of passing madmen with loaded pistols.
    “Easy, Bothwick. Killing me won’t bring him back.”
    “But it’ll damn well make me feel better.”
    A door slammed. Whatever the giant replied was too muffled to overhear. Good. She couldn’t hear them; they couldn’t see her.
    The time to escape was now.
    She hurried down the steps as fast as her booted feet could carry her and found herself in a spiderweb of colorless passageways identical to the unnavigable ones above-stairs. Now what?
    A door banged open several feet ahead. The handsome gentleman she’d met the night before flew backward into the hall, crashed into the wall opposite, and landed in a crouched position. His pistol pointed straight ahead at the open doorway from whence he’d flown. The door immediately slammed shut behind him.
    He didn’t move for several long seconds, as if deciding whether to kick the door back open or to start shooting straight through it. To say his dress was in a state of disarray would be a gross understatement. But costume was a lesser concern than his propensity for indulging homicidal urges.
    Just when Susan had come to the conclusion that she’d be better off sneaking back upstairs after all, the would-be murderer straightened, snapped seaweed-laden boots together with military precision, and marched down the hall in the opposite direction.
    His sandy footprints had to be heading out. Which left her only two options: stay in—and hopelessly lost—on the other side of the giant’s wall. Or follow the ill-clad, well-armed gentleman to freedom, and pray to the gods that he wouldn’t discover her trailing behind.
    She wavered.
    Now that he was no longer in the company of someone he wished to kill, following someone this intriguing would be a close substitute to the rush of discovering juicy London scandal broth. Provided she stayed well hidden and far enough behind him that he not detect her presence.
    The gentleman rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.
    Decide, Susan. Decide right now.
    She gathered up her skirts and dashed silently in his wake. After all, she’d been caught spying exactly once in the four fruitful years since her London come-out.
    What were the chances lightning would strike twice?

Chapter 2

    Damn it.
    Bad enough the little blond houseguest’s unexpected presence had thrown him enough off-kilter to miss taking a perfectly sound—if airborne—shot at Ollie’s infuriating head. The chit was actually following him.
    Bollocks the size of barges or incurably featherbrained?
    Possibly both.
    Either way, she was now more than ever the exact sort of woman from which he should stay far, far away. He liked the freedom of leaving when he chose and going where he chose—without worrying about the possibility of anyone dogging his steps. Particularly a female.
    Evan Bothwick tucked his pistol between his waistband and the small of his back before straightening his greatcoat and