Read Online A Scandalous Scot by Karen Ranney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karen Ranney
Ads: Link
he?”
She knew better than to agree. She wasn’t about to insult her employer’s ancestor.
“My father was an honorable man,” he said, and the words sounded wistful.
“I’m sorry about his death,” she said. “It’s difficult to lose a parent.”
“Have you lost your father?”
She stood, knowing the time had come to leave him. She wanted to say something to indicate her gratitude. For a few moments he’d treated her with kindness. For a space of time they’d been strangers in the darkness, sharing a little of themselves. He hadn’t been an earl, and she hadn’t been a maid.
But now it was time for them to slip back into their respective roles.
“Good night, Your Lordship,” she said, and escaped before he could say anything else, or question her further.
As she left him, she realized she hadn’t asked about his wife. An omission that troubled her all the way back to her room.
Chapter 7
RULES FOR STAFF: Never laugh or giggle in the presence of others, or incite others to do so.
H is night had been dreamless, and when Morgan awoke, he felt more refreshed than he had in months.
He lay looking at the dawn sky creep in through the curtains he’d opened before retiring. For once, he wasn’t thinking of all the things he needed to do or the people he had to meet, or to avoid, as the case might be.
His valet wasn’t there to give him a disapproving glance. Nor did he have an angry wife marching into his bedchamber and demanding all sorts of things, from a new wardrobe to his concession that he was an idiot, a fool, and a cold, callous bastard.
The birds sang, the morning mist was burned away by a rapturous sun, and he was blessedly alone.
He lay in the bed his father had occupied, which he realized didn’t concern him at all. Perhaps he should have returned home earlier.
The encounter the night before slid into his mind. He’d never expected to have a conversation with a maid about ghosts. He’d almost told her about his childhood, how magical and enchanted it seemed now, looking back. Had she had a similar upbringing?
And why the hell did he want to know?
Was he so damn lonely he would seek out the company of a maid? Next, he’d be taking tea with the housekeeper.
He dismissed the little wren from his mind with some difficulty, but he did it nonetheless, intent on his first full day at home.
S he was the most beautiful woman Andrew had seen in a very long time, and London was filled with beautiful women, most of whom were well aware of their appearance.
If he had any occupation at all, he was a professional connoisseur of women. He courted them. He flattered them. He was thoroughly appreciative of all their physical attributes.
He loved the smell of women, the curve of their necks, the supple grace of their arms, the mystery of their bodice as it curved and hid, protected and promised. He loved the way they walked, a simple, enchanting sway of hips.
He’d spent enough time talking to women to know the state of their minds. Most women simply wanted to be appreciated. He could certainly do that, just as he was now, watching the blonde as she cleaned a parlor on the first floor. The Ruby Room, he thought it was called.
Andrew had the perfect ploy. He would confess he was lost, and she would put her duster down, smile at him and give him all her attention. From that moment it would be nothing at all to get her into his bed. Strange, he hadn’t had a maid before. He’d spent all this time with women of the peerage. He had the money to interest them and to give them baubles when the affair was done.
He wondered if that bodice of hers was real, or simply padding.
“I’m hopelessly lost,” he said, leaning up against the doorjamb.
To his surprise, she ignored him. No, she did more than ignore him; she turned her back on him.
“Did you not hear me?” he asked, strolling into the room.
“You’re not lost,” she said.
What a lovely voice she had, a complement to her
She knew better than to agree. She wasn’t about to insult her employer’s ancestor.
“My father was an honorable man,” he said, and the words sounded wistful.
“I’m sorry about his death,” she said. “It’s difficult to lose a parent.”
“Have you lost your father?”
She stood, knowing the time had come to leave him. She wanted to say something to indicate her gratitude. For a few moments he’d treated her with kindness. For a space of time they’d been strangers in the darkness, sharing a little of themselves. He hadn’t been an earl, and she hadn’t been a maid.
But now it was time for them to slip back into their respective roles.
“Good night, Your Lordship,” she said, and escaped before he could say anything else, or question her further.
As she left him, she realized she hadn’t asked about his wife. An omission that troubled her all the way back to her room.
Chapter 7
RULES FOR STAFF: Never laugh or giggle in the presence of others, or incite others to do so.
H is night had been dreamless, and when Morgan awoke, he felt more refreshed than he had in months.
He lay looking at the dawn sky creep in through the curtains he’d opened before retiring. For once, he wasn’t thinking of all the things he needed to do or the people he had to meet, or to avoid, as the case might be.
His valet wasn’t there to give him a disapproving glance. Nor did he have an angry wife marching into his bedchamber and demanding all sorts of things, from a new wardrobe to his concession that he was an idiot, a fool, and a cold, callous bastard.
The birds sang, the morning mist was burned away by a rapturous sun, and he was blessedly alone.
He lay in the bed his father had occupied, which he realized didn’t concern him at all. Perhaps he should have returned home earlier.
The encounter the night before slid into his mind. He’d never expected to have a conversation with a maid about ghosts. He’d almost told her about his childhood, how magical and enchanted it seemed now, looking back. Had she had a similar upbringing?
And why the hell did he want to know?
Was he so damn lonely he would seek out the company of a maid? Next, he’d be taking tea with the housekeeper.
He dismissed the little wren from his mind with some difficulty, but he did it nonetheless, intent on his first full day at home.
S he was the most beautiful woman Andrew had seen in a very long time, and London was filled with beautiful women, most of whom were well aware of their appearance.
If he had any occupation at all, he was a professional connoisseur of women. He courted them. He flattered them. He was thoroughly appreciative of all their physical attributes.
He loved the smell of women, the curve of their necks, the supple grace of their arms, the mystery of their bodice as it curved and hid, protected and promised. He loved the way they walked, a simple, enchanting sway of hips.
He’d spent enough time talking to women to know the state of their minds. Most women simply wanted to be appreciated. He could certainly do that, just as he was now, watching the blonde as she cleaned a parlor on the first floor. The Ruby Room, he thought it was called.
Andrew had the perfect ploy. He would confess he was lost, and she would put her duster down, smile at him and give him all her attention. From that moment it would be nothing at all to get her into his bed. Strange, he hadn’t had a maid before. He’d spent all this time with women of the peerage. He had the money to interest them and to give them baubles when the affair was done.
He wondered if that bodice of hers was real, or simply padding.
“I’m hopelessly lost,” he said, leaning up against the doorjamb.
To his surprise, she ignored him. No, she did more than ignore him; she turned her back on him.
“Did you not hear me?” he asked, strolling into the room.
“You’re not lost,” she said.
What a lovely voice she had, a complement to her
Similar Books
