Read Online Clandestine by Nichole van - Free Book Online Page A

with a handsome face.
    So it came as no surprise that the gentlemen she had met so far at Haldon Manor scarcely turned her head. Jedediah Knight . . . uh, obviously no. Lord Linwood was not un-handsome, but his starched demeanor and cool reserve easily counteracted his good looks.
    But this man . . .
    He seemed elemental. Untamed. Dangerous.
    The kind of man who would entice a woman to make poor life choices.
    The kind of man her mother would have warned her to stay far, far away from.
    What a pity she had never had a mother’s influence.
    Wicked Angel snickered at the sarcasm.
    Really, he needs to come along with us, Wicked Angel urged. He could be the scenery.
    You are such a trial. We are not running away, remember? No matter how lovely the scenery, Virtuous Angel chided.
    Kit batted both thoughts away, but she did give in and straightened the cloak around her shoulders.
    “I cannot imagine my fate had you not happened along.” She pasted on a bright smile.
    Mmmm, perhaps a little too bright. Star-struck. She dimmed it a bit.
    Tried again.
    “How does one ever learn such a remarkable trick?” She gestured toward the horse.
    He stared for a moment, giving her a chance to study the carved planes of his face.
    Yes. Still handsome.
    Drat him for making her want to flirt.
    A lady’s companion did not flirt. Of that she was quite certain.
    But he was just so irresistibly . . . male. So self-assured and capable in that romantic greatcoat which made his shoulders seem enormous.
    And, heaven knew, she had such weakness for broad shoulders. They made her want to place things on them . . . like her hands or head or . . . her problems.
    How wonderful would it be to have such strong shoulders as a sanctuary? A place to rest from her troubles.
    But she had promised herself she would be good.
    That thought settled it. No flirting then.
    He shrugged and said, “Happy to be of service,” while continuing to pat the horse’s neck.
    Completely ignoring her question.
    Hmmm. Why avoid the question? Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with secrets.
    A soft breeze tugged at Kit’s hair, implying that more of it was down that she had initially thought.
    Blast.
    Pausing, as if unsure, the man gave her a brief bow.
    Kit blinked and felt her smile falter.
    So was he dashing, handsome, secretive and . . . rude?
    He had turned back to the horse, continuing to sooth the lathered beast. She studied the man’s dark curls for a moment and then her eyes met his as he raised his head again.
    He didn’t look particularly haughty. More like harried.
    Odd.
    So perhaps not . . . rude? Dashing and handsome went without saying.
    But still definitely secretive.
    Her eyes narrowed. How to prod him?
    “Miss Katherine Ashton, pleased to make your acquaintance.” She nodded politely. And then waited for him to do the same.
    He said nothing. Did nothing. Just continued to stare at her with those rather unnerving green eyes.
    He was clearly going to need more prodding.
    She leaned forward, as if imparting a confidence. “In a polite conversation between a lady and a gentleman, this is the point where you, sir, introduce yourself.” She paused. Waiting.
    Again, he said nothing and instead widened his eyes, as if her suggestion had startled him. As if the entire scene with her were overwhelming in some way.
    The silence lingered a little too long.
    “Let’s just say that I am a . . . friend,” he finally responded with a wary tip of his head.
    “A friend?”
    He shrugged.
    “That is all the answer you will deign to give me?”
    He raised an amused eyebrow, his face showing a sudden hint of mischievousness.
    “I did just save your life. I should be allowed an eccentricity or two.”
    Unbidden, Kit found herself matching his tone. “I believe incivility was the word you wanted there.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “An orange cravat or flower in your hat would be an eccentricity. A refusal to introduce oneself is something else entirely.”
    “Ah.” His