Read Online A Forbidden Love by Alexandra Benedict - Free Book Online
Authors: Alexandra Benedict
Ads: Link
accustomed to using it in a variety of ways.
The tempting thought took root. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be with this particular gypsy? And if the girl was willing, it’d be a marvelous match.
He closed his eyes, willing the yearnings into submission. He had a code of conduct to adhere to. He couldn’t play the scoundrel and seduce his vulnerable ward. Honor demanded the utmost of gentlemanly behavior—though the sight of that tight derrière could certainly shake a man’s sense of honor.
He quickly banished the thought.
Sabrina fumbled with the covers and at last slipped beneath them. She closed her eyes, sighing heavily, the short walk across the room having sapped some of her tenuous energy.
He took that moment in which to pour her a rejuvenating cup of tea and gather a few goods on a plate. He then set the food on the nightstand next to the basin.
Accepting the cup he offered with a nod of thanks, she sipped her tea without much effort, now able to sit up more comfortably than she had the previous night. And since he had already indulged in some eggs and ham this morning, he merely dispensed with another cup of tea for himself and hauled an armchair over to the bed.
Setting her own tea aside, she reached for the plate of food. “It’s as rich in there”—she indicated to the privy—“as it is out here.”
“Do you really think so?”
She sounded incredulous as she dipped into her eggs, mumbling, “There’s a fireplace next to the tub. It’s no bush in the woods.”
The tea skewed down the wrong passage. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”
Oblivious to his throat clearing, she wondered aloud, a wistful note to her voice, “It must be nice taking a bath in winter with a fire raging nearby.”
He silently admitted the thought had never crossed his mind, but he assumed it was indeed more comfortable.
“Aren’t you going to have breakfast with your family?” she wondered next.
He shook his head. “Ashley will look after any questions regarding my absence, but with the house in an abhorrent state of uproar, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that no one took heed of my empty chair.”
“You hate balls?”
“I despise disorderly conduct. Just the sight of all those bustling bodies, aimlessly scurrying from room to room, gives me an excruciating headache. I prefer to be as little troubled as possible.”
“Then why trouble with me?”
He could feel those beautiful blue eyes carving up his soul in meticulous assessment, burrowing past his defenses, rousing within him what he was trying so hard to suppress.
“There’s nothing cryptic about it,” he said. “I simply deal with trouble as it finds me.”
“So I was trouble?”
“I believe that label is more fitting for your assailants.”
She nodded, her gaze averted to her plate, her voice taking on a more timid quality. “And does trouble often find you?”
His smile was suggestive, his response more oblique. “Not too often.”
She said nothing more on the matter and returned to her breakfast. He studied her for a while, casually drinking his tea, admiring her like a work of art. His eyes didn’t skip over a single detail, from the lone freckle on her neck to a short, stray lock of hair that curled under to tickle her chin. She was charming. She was lovely. She was every bit an alluring nymph…And she was in his bed.
He took in a deep breath. He would conquer this. He was strong enough to resist the nymph’s enchanting call.
But the more he admired her, the more he felt like a jewel thief in the royal vault, appointed to be his own sentry.
Into the stretching silence he heard a throat clear, followed by a hesitant, “Um, how old is your youngest sister?”
Good. A wholesome question. He needed a sound kick in the arse, a blow to rattle and realign his scattered senses. “Cecelia will be seventeen on the day of her ball.”
“And she is now being prepared for a husband?”
“Is she too young by gypsy standards?”
She
The tempting thought took root. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be with this particular gypsy? And if the girl was willing, it’d be a marvelous match.
He closed his eyes, willing the yearnings into submission. He had a code of conduct to adhere to. He couldn’t play the scoundrel and seduce his vulnerable ward. Honor demanded the utmost of gentlemanly behavior—though the sight of that tight derrière could certainly shake a man’s sense of honor.
He quickly banished the thought.
Sabrina fumbled with the covers and at last slipped beneath them. She closed her eyes, sighing heavily, the short walk across the room having sapped some of her tenuous energy.
He took that moment in which to pour her a rejuvenating cup of tea and gather a few goods on a plate. He then set the food on the nightstand next to the basin.
Accepting the cup he offered with a nod of thanks, she sipped her tea without much effort, now able to sit up more comfortably than she had the previous night. And since he had already indulged in some eggs and ham this morning, he merely dispensed with another cup of tea for himself and hauled an armchair over to the bed.
Setting her own tea aside, she reached for the plate of food. “It’s as rich in there”—she indicated to the privy—“as it is out here.”
“Do you really think so?”
She sounded incredulous as she dipped into her eggs, mumbling, “There’s a fireplace next to the tub. It’s no bush in the woods.”
The tea skewed down the wrong passage. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”
Oblivious to his throat clearing, she wondered aloud, a wistful note to her voice, “It must be nice taking a bath in winter with a fire raging nearby.”
He silently admitted the thought had never crossed his mind, but he assumed it was indeed more comfortable.
“Aren’t you going to have breakfast with your family?” she wondered next.
He shook his head. “Ashley will look after any questions regarding my absence, but with the house in an abhorrent state of uproar, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that no one took heed of my empty chair.”
“You hate balls?”
“I despise disorderly conduct. Just the sight of all those bustling bodies, aimlessly scurrying from room to room, gives me an excruciating headache. I prefer to be as little troubled as possible.”
“Then why trouble with me?”
He could feel those beautiful blue eyes carving up his soul in meticulous assessment, burrowing past his defenses, rousing within him what he was trying so hard to suppress.
“There’s nothing cryptic about it,” he said. “I simply deal with trouble as it finds me.”
“So I was trouble?”
“I believe that label is more fitting for your assailants.”
She nodded, her gaze averted to her plate, her voice taking on a more timid quality. “And does trouble often find you?”
His smile was suggestive, his response more oblique. “Not too often.”
She said nothing more on the matter and returned to her breakfast. He studied her for a while, casually drinking his tea, admiring her like a work of art. His eyes didn’t skip over a single detail, from the lone freckle on her neck to a short, stray lock of hair that curled under to tickle her chin. She was charming. She was lovely. She was every bit an alluring nymph…And she was in his bed.
He took in a deep breath. He would conquer this. He was strong enough to resist the nymph’s enchanting call.
But the more he admired her, the more he felt like a jewel thief in the royal vault, appointed to be his own sentry.
Into the stretching silence he heard a throat clear, followed by a hesitant, “Um, how old is your youngest sister?”
Good. A wholesome question. He needed a sound kick in the arse, a blow to rattle and realign his scattered senses. “Cecelia will be seventeen on the day of her ball.”
“And she is now being prepared for a husband?”
“Is she too young by gypsy standards?”
She
Similar Books
