Read Online By Love Unveiled by Deborah Martin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Martin
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her, then traveled to her cloak, stained with dirt, grass, and dew. She kept her pouches of herbs hidden under her cloak, but they made a noticeable bulge, which he seemed to fix on next.
“Remove your mask and cloak,” he said, his expression unchanging.
“I will not! You know who I am!”
He lifted the sword threateningly. “Remove them!”
She considered refusing again, but he had every reason to be suspicious, for she’d been trespassing in his gardens. Letting her pouches slide to the ground, she then did as he asked.
As soon as her cloak hit the ground, she becameaware of several things at once. The air was colder than she’d realized. Her hands were smeared with dirt. And though the earl had lowered his sword, he was staring at her in a way that boded trouble.
His gaze paused only a moment to take in her cheeks pinkened by the cold and her hair tied back with ribbon. Then it slid lower to linger where her chemise of cream muslin bunched over the tops of her breasts.
A slow smile lit his lips as his eyes swept down the boned bodice of her simple chocolate-brown gown to her waist, and then to her hips. She wore few petticoats these days—there was no place for them in the wagon—so her form appeared much as nature had intended it.
“Enchanting.” His gaze returned to her face. “But I felt certain you would be.” Then he sheathed his sword.
It took her a second to realize he’d only made her remove her cloak so he could satisfy his lustful urge to gawk at her body, but when she did, she snatched up her cloak. “You, sir, are a lecher!” she cried as she retied it about her neck.
“And what are you, my dear? A spy? A thief?” He gestured to the pouches at her feet. “Why are you skulking about in the wee hours of the morning, alarming my cook so she rouses me to confront the intruder?”
She reddened under his scrutiny. “I merely wanted some plants.” She knelt to pull an innocuous one from her bag. “You see? I want to start a garden of my own, and I thought you wouldn’t mind if I took a few of the ones difficult to cultivate. You have plenty, and you obviously don’t use them.”
Looking skeptical, he stepped close enough to bend and examine the pouches. When he found nothing but plants, he held out his hand to help her rise, which she ignored as she stood.
That seemed to annoy him. “Would it have been too much for you to humble yourself and ask for the plants? Think you I would have begrudged you a few herbs?”
She met his gaze boldly. “I really don’t know what you might begrudge me, my lord.”
He grunted, then scanned the garden. His eyes narrowed. “How did you know where to find what you needed? You couldn’t have been here more than half an hour, yet you’ve clearly put aside a goodly supply.”
The question caught her off guard. Scrambling for an answer that might pacify him, she said, “I’ve been here before. The former owners allowed me to take what I wished.” With that half-truth, her next words came more readily. “That’s why I didn’t think anything about coming here now. I’m accustomed to gathering what I need when I need it.”
“Is that why you came at this hour, when you thought no one would see you? I’d say that’s the habit of a thief, not a guest.”
“I’m no thief,” she said stoutly. “The Winchilseas never called me such. And you don’t care about the garden anyway, so why quibble if I take a few plants? To you they’re just weeds.”
His mouth thinned as he stooped to pull the nightshade from her bag. “Belladonna is not a weed.”
She willed herself to remain calm. If he recognized the plant, he had to know its properties. “I use it for poultices,” she said in an even voice.
“And here I thought it was to make those entrancing eyes of yours look more mysterious.”
That, too, was a property of the plant—Italian ladies used it to dilate their pupils and give them a sensuous appeal. “I’ve no desire to look
“Remove your mask and cloak,” he said, his expression unchanging.
“I will not! You know who I am!”
He lifted the sword threateningly. “Remove them!”
She considered refusing again, but he had every reason to be suspicious, for she’d been trespassing in his gardens. Letting her pouches slide to the ground, she then did as he asked.
As soon as her cloak hit the ground, she becameaware of several things at once. The air was colder than she’d realized. Her hands were smeared with dirt. And though the earl had lowered his sword, he was staring at her in a way that boded trouble.
His gaze paused only a moment to take in her cheeks pinkened by the cold and her hair tied back with ribbon. Then it slid lower to linger where her chemise of cream muslin bunched over the tops of her breasts.
A slow smile lit his lips as his eyes swept down the boned bodice of her simple chocolate-brown gown to her waist, and then to her hips. She wore few petticoats these days—there was no place for them in the wagon—so her form appeared much as nature had intended it.
“Enchanting.” His gaze returned to her face. “But I felt certain you would be.” Then he sheathed his sword.
It took her a second to realize he’d only made her remove her cloak so he could satisfy his lustful urge to gawk at her body, but when she did, she snatched up her cloak. “You, sir, are a lecher!” she cried as she retied it about her neck.
“And what are you, my dear? A spy? A thief?” He gestured to the pouches at her feet. “Why are you skulking about in the wee hours of the morning, alarming my cook so she rouses me to confront the intruder?”
She reddened under his scrutiny. “I merely wanted some plants.” She knelt to pull an innocuous one from her bag. “You see? I want to start a garden of my own, and I thought you wouldn’t mind if I took a few of the ones difficult to cultivate. You have plenty, and you obviously don’t use them.”
Looking skeptical, he stepped close enough to bend and examine the pouches. When he found nothing but plants, he held out his hand to help her rise, which she ignored as she stood.
That seemed to annoy him. “Would it have been too much for you to humble yourself and ask for the plants? Think you I would have begrudged you a few herbs?”
She met his gaze boldly. “I really don’t know what you might begrudge me, my lord.”
He grunted, then scanned the garden. His eyes narrowed. “How did you know where to find what you needed? You couldn’t have been here more than half an hour, yet you’ve clearly put aside a goodly supply.”
The question caught her off guard. Scrambling for an answer that might pacify him, she said, “I’ve been here before. The former owners allowed me to take what I wished.” With that half-truth, her next words came more readily. “That’s why I didn’t think anything about coming here now. I’m accustomed to gathering what I need when I need it.”
“Is that why you came at this hour, when you thought no one would see you? I’d say that’s the habit of a thief, not a guest.”
“I’m no thief,” she said stoutly. “The Winchilseas never called me such. And you don’t care about the garden anyway, so why quibble if I take a few plants? To you they’re just weeds.”
His mouth thinned as he stooped to pull the nightshade from her bag. “Belladonna is not a weed.”
She willed herself to remain calm. If he recognized the plant, he had to know its properties. “I use it for poultices,” she said in an even voice.
“And here I thought it was to make those entrancing eyes of yours look more mysterious.”
That, too, was a property of the plant—Italian ladies used it to dilate their pupils and give them a sensuous appeal. “I’ve no desire to look
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