Read Online Diana's Hound: Bloodhounds, Book 4 by Moira Rogers - Free Book Online
Authors: Moira Rogers
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that—presumably because she could be hurt, Heaven forbid, or because he still pictured her as the mostly innocent young widow painted in Doc’s journals.
“Good,” she found herself saying. “The more the merrier, right?”
Archer spewed whiskey across the table.
“Good heavens.” Grace reappeared, a bewildered look on her face. “Archer?”
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and wheezed out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.” He lunged out of his chair and headed for the bar.
Grace hovered, clearly torn between staying to protect Diana and following Archer to find out what was going on.
“It’s all right,” Diana murmured. “A poorly timed joke, that’s all.”
“All right,” Grace said reluctantly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She turned toward the bar, and Nate watched her go before glaring at Diana, his eyes darkly dangerous. “Well, you got a reaction out of one of us.”
His control infuriated her. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll take what I can get.”
“Count yourself fortunate, love. You don’t want a reaction out of me.”
Oh, but she did. A smile, a groan, a sigh—she’d even take a scream as long as that composure cracked. “So you’ve said, more than once. Though perhaps not so plainly.”
“Then perhaps plain is what’s required.” He rose and tucked his chair neatly under the table. “Give my regrets to your friend, but as I don’t need to eat food, I prefer to retire for the evening.”
She wanted to argue, apologize, even ask him to stay, so she bit her lip and nodded. “Understood.”
He started to turn away, but hesitated. “Will you be staying here tonight?”
For all she knew, someone had moved into her old house. “All my things are here.”
A nod. “They gave me a room upstairs. I suppose I’ll see you in the morning.”
Before she could say anything, he was gone.
Cook came out to greet her, as did Cecil, and the two of them served dinner while Grace kept up a steady flow of conversation. Diana ate, but barely tasted the roast. She spoke, but really didn’t know what about. It upset her even more, that her thoughts lingered so strongly on Nate that she couldn’t even enjoy visiting with her oldest friends.
When the clock struck nine, she excused herself and climbed the stairs. The lamps had been dimmed, and she trailed her hand along the wall as she made her way down the hall.
Which one was Nate’s? The room just before the far end of the hall was the nicest, and Diana found herself pausing in front of the door, contemplating an apology.
The door snapped open, leaving her staring at Nate.
Shirtless, rumpled Nate.
Half-naked, tousled Nate.
Diana stared at the spot just above his left nipple. She told herself to look away, but there was no safe place for her gaze to rest. The flat of his stomach, the dark hair curling over his chest—even his collarbone was sin, standing out in tempting relief. She wanted to rub her thumb across it and up, up to the pulse that pounded in his throat.
His low, tortured groan split the silence in the hallway as his fingers sank into her hair. He pulled her forward to crash against that broad, solid chest, and his mouth landed on hers. Rough, deep, a kiss that held nothing of sweet coaxing and everything of guilty desire.
For an endless frozen moment, she couldn’t move. All she could do was struggle to catch up, to reconcile what was happening with her expectations.
He didn’t kiss like he was horny and she was there. He devoured her, slanting his mouth over hers like he was dying of hunger and she was his only sustenance. Diana whimpered in the back of her throat and touched him, her palms flattening against his chest.
His mouth opened, and sharp teeth—sharp fangs —dug into her lower lip. Starving, she thought dimly. But was that him or her? She pressed closer with a moan, close enough to feel him through her clothes, hard and aroused and—
Her brain ground to a halt. She wound her
“Good,” she found herself saying. “The more the merrier, right?”
Archer spewed whiskey across the table.
“Good heavens.” Grace reappeared, a bewildered look on her face. “Archer?”
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and wheezed out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.” He lunged out of his chair and headed for the bar.
Grace hovered, clearly torn between staying to protect Diana and following Archer to find out what was going on.
“It’s all right,” Diana murmured. “A poorly timed joke, that’s all.”
“All right,” Grace said reluctantly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She turned toward the bar, and Nate watched her go before glaring at Diana, his eyes darkly dangerous. “Well, you got a reaction out of one of us.”
His control infuriated her. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll take what I can get.”
“Count yourself fortunate, love. You don’t want a reaction out of me.”
Oh, but she did. A smile, a groan, a sigh—she’d even take a scream as long as that composure cracked. “So you’ve said, more than once. Though perhaps not so plainly.”
“Then perhaps plain is what’s required.” He rose and tucked his chair neatly under the table. “Give my regrets to your friend, but as I don’t need to eat food, I prefer to retire for the evening.”
She wanted to argue, apologize, even ask him to stay, so she bit her lip and nodded. “Understood.”
He started to turn away, but hesitated. “Will you be staying here tonight?”
For all she knew, someone had moved into her old house. “All my things are here.”
A nod. “They gave me a room upstairs. I suppose I’ll see you in the morning.”
Before she could say anything, he was gone.
Cook came out to greet her, as did Cecil, and the two of them served dinner while Grace kept up a steady flow of conversation. Diana ate, but barely tasted the roast. She spoke, but really didn’t know what about. It upset her even more, that her thoughts lingered so strongly on Nate that she couldn’t even enjoy visiting with her oldest friends.
When the clock struck nine, she excused herself and climbed the stairs. The lamps had been dimmed, and she trailed her hand along the wall as she made her way down the hall.
Which one was Nate’s? The room just before the far end of the hall was the nicest, and Diana found herself pausing in front of the door, contemplating an apology.
The door snapped open, leaving her staring at Nate.
Shirtless, rumpled Nate.
Half-naked, tousled Nate.
Diana stared at the spot just above his left nipple. She told herself to look away, but there was no safe place for her gaze to rest. The flat of his stomach, the dark hair curling over his chest—even his collarbone was sin, standing out in tempting relief. She wanted to rub her thumb across it and up, up to the pulse that pounded in his throat.
His low, tortured groan split the silence in the hallway as his fingers sank into her hair. He pulled her forward to crash against that broad, solid chest, and his mouth landed on hers. Rough, deep, a kiss that held nothing of sweet coaxing and everything of guilty desire.
For an endless frozen moment, she couldn’t move. All she could do was struggle to catch up, to reconcile what was happening with her expectations.
He didn’t kiss like he was horny and she was there. He devoured her, slanting his mouth over hers like he was dying of hunger and she was his only sustenance. Diana whimpered in the back of her throat and touched him, her palms flattening against his chest.
His mouth opened, and sharp teeth—sharp fangs —dug into her lower lip. Starving, she thought dimly. But was that him or her? She pressed closer with a moan, close enough to feel him through her clothes, hard and aroused and—
Her brain ground to a halt. She wound her
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