Read Online Bay of Sighs by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online Page A

for more inventive play. He expected he’d dispose of them both very soon.
    He had offers pending, of course, but none stirred his juices. Murder? Easily done, but he no longer killed for a fee—unless the kill offered him personal pleasure.
    Theft? Sometimes intriguing, but again why steal for someone else? He’d rather steal for himself—and couldn’t, at the moment, think of a single thing worth the effort.
    Kidnappings, brainwashings, mutilations. Ho-hum.
    Of course there was the standing offer of fifty million for a unicorn, or its horn.
    Money couldn’t buy sanity.
    If he got bored enough, he might take the time and effort to have a fake horn fabricated. But that was scraping the barrel clean.
    He passed a hand over his hair—gilded blond, perfect waves around a handsome face with a sharply sculpted mouth, a thin nose, and deceptively quiet blue eyes.
    Perhaps he’d kill Magda—his current
amore
. Not the whore, whores weren’t worth the killing. But Magda, the heiress with the hint of royal blood. Magda, the beautiful and serene.
    He could stage a murder/mutilation, add touches of the occult and sexual perversion. Such a scandal!
    It might perk him right up.
    He scowled at the knock on his bedroom door, turned when it opened.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mr. Malmon.”
    â€œYou’ll be sorrier.” His voice, cold and British, carried a whip of temper. “I expressly told you not to disturb me.”
    â€œYes, sir. There’s a woman here to see you.”
    He stepped forward. “What does ‘not to disturb’ mean to you, Nigel?”
    â€œShe’s waiting in the drawing room.”
    Nigel, stoic and discreet, offered a card. Incensed, Malmon started to strike it away, but the look in his butler’s eyes stopped him.
    Blank. Next to dead. He merely stood, staring, the card held out.
    Malmon snatched the card, the glossy black rectangle with the bold red lettering of a single name.
    Nerezza
    â€œWhat does she want?”
    â€œTo speak with you, sir.”
    â€œShe got past the gate, past Lucien, past you?”
    â€œYes, sir. Shall I serve refreshments?”
    â€œNo, you bloody well won’t serve refreshments. Go hang yourself, Nigel.”
    And pushing past the butler, Malmon started down to the parlor.
    He felt annoyed, certainly. But he was also curious. He hadn’t been curious for
days
.
    He checked the derringer up his right sleeve. He never went anywhere, not even inside his own homes, unarmed. And since Lucien appeared to be as useless as Nigel, walked into the parlor.
    She turned. She smiled.
    She was a vision. He couldn’t have said her beautiful, but beauty blinded him. Dark hair swept in coils over her shoulders, made all the more striking by a streak of white bolting through the black.
    And black were her eyes, black and wide and mesmerizing against pale white skin. Lips red as blood curved knowingly.
    She wore black as well, a dress that molded her tall, stately form.
    â€œMonsieur Malmon.” She walked toward him, glided without a sound—and her voice, faintly exotic, caused his heart to trip.
“Je m’appelle Nerezza.”
    â€œMademoiselle.” He took the offered hand, touched his lips to her knuckles, and felt a thrill like no other.
    â€œDo we speak English? We are in England, after all.”
    â€œAs you wish. Please, sit, mademoiselle.”
    â€œNerezza, please.” With a slither of skirts, she sat. “We will be good friends, you and I.”
    â€œWill we?” He struggled for aplomb, but his heart raced, his blood pounded. “Then we should begin our friendship with a drink.”
    â€œOf course.”
    He walked to the bar, poured whiskey for two. Taking charge, taking control—he thought—by not asking what she’d prefer.
    He came back, sat across from her. They touched glasses.
    â€œAnd what brings you to me, Nerezza?”
    â€œYour reputation, of