Read Online Duchess by Susan May Warren - Free Book Online

little more than a nightgown. That made sense—the silky dress, the white fur in the middle of war-torn London.
    â€œI have lines to read. And—”
    He looked her over then. “You’re a funny one, Roxy. You’re all siren and lights on the outside, but inside, you’re quiet and even shy.”
    She was? She glanced at him as he lowered his aviator sunglasses.
    â€œIt’s time to teach you how to have some fun.”
    â€œI have fun.”
    â€œYeah. I see you sitting on your balcony at the Sands, reading while the rest of the cast is out by the pool. You’re a real troublemaker.” He smirked, and she wanted to smack him.
    But she smiled and the fight left her as they turned out of the airport toward Alameda.
    She leaned her head back in the seat and closed her eyes. He hummed beside her, not talking. But she could smell him. A hint of airplane exhaust, sweat, sunshine. And sitting next to him felt easy. As if she could breathe, finally, the ocean-soaked air.
    She must have fallen asleep because he nudged her awake in the parking lot as the driver drove them to the curb. “We’re here.”
    She sat up, cleared her eyes. A Ferris wheel loomed before her, in front of an enormous building maybe three blocks long, with a red-tiled roof, stuccoed exterior. She smelled hot dogs and cotton candy, heard music, the bells of a carousel.
    â€œIt’s an amusement park,” she said as he got out and came around the car and opened her door before their driver could manage it.
    He gave the driver a bill. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Make yourself comfortable.” Then he took her hand. “C’mon. I’ll buy you a swimsuit.”
    â€œI’m not going swimming,” she said, but he pulled her into the entrance, a looming tower with a red cap on the top. Beyond the striped red awnings, she spied an enormous swimming pool, patrons kicking through the glistening water.
    Inside the pavilion, Rafe steered her toward the gift shop and found her a black swimsuit, a bathing cap, a robe. He purchased a pair of trunks for himself.
    â€œMeet you on the deck,” he said as he steered her toward the ladies’ dressing area.
    She couldn’t believe that she found herself changing, donning the suit, the cap, the robe. Or that she obeyed him and found him cordoning off two beach chairs in the sand beyond the pool, grabbing an umbrella to shade them. He waved a waiter over to order drinks.
    â€œJust an orange juice for me,” she said.
    â€œAnd me. I promise, there will be no champagne.” He winked at her.
    The sound of frivolity filled the air, from the shrieks of children, splashes in the pool, music from the carousel, and an announcer calling out something from the high-dive area.
    â€œIn the summer, they have water polo tournaments and boxing matches and later, if you want, we can go over to the dance pavilion and cut a rug to the band.”
    She drew in a breath, the air salty from the ocean combing the shore just beyond the oak trees. He stared at her, smiling, an odd look on his face.
    Right then she had the strangest sense that, yes, she knew him.
    â€œWhere are you from, Rafe? France?”
    He shook his head. “Belgium, actually. It’s a little country south of Holland. But I spent a lot of my life in England. Studied at Cambridge. Flew for the RAF.”
    â€œThat’s where you got your flight training.”
    â€œWhere I enlisted, yes. I fought for England then went back to Belgium to get married.”
    That stilled her. “You’re married?”
    â€œNo.”
    She leaned back, remembering the pain in his eyes on the balcony in New York City. She didn’t want to ask—
    â€œIt didn’t work out. She didn’t want me.”
    She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
    He said nothing, but she felt his hand brush hers.
    She leaned back in the chaise lounge, closing her eyes. Breathing