Read Online Heiress in Love by Christina Brooke - Free Book Online Page A

particularly gloomy, if my memory serves right. Quite Gothic, in fact.” He sighed. “I fear one is more likely to be stabbed than seduced in the Hall chapel.”
    He ran a fingertip around the rim of his glass. “Ought I to go, do you think? It might be part of a plan to do away with me.”
    “One must never disappoint a lady, my lord.”
    “Even on pain of death?”
    “I’ll get your coat, sir.”
    “Don’t bother.” Constantine slipped his stockinged feet into his evening pumps, downed the wine in a couple of mouthfuls and rose.
    “My lord!” Priddle’s voice rose in consternation. “You cannot go like that!”
    Ignoring his valet, Constantine strode out toward the chapel.
    When he reached the meeting place, he found it lit by a single branch of candles on the altar. He set his own candle on a side table and peered through the gloom.
    She stood with her back to him, as if examining the stained-glass window before her; a useless activity in the evening with no sun to fire its colors to brilliance. If she’d heard his arrival she didn’t show it.
    He took the opportunity thus presented to study her. The erect posture; the somber dress; the tightly pinned hair—no dishabille, even at this late hour, for Lady Roxdale. Only small wisps of auburn hair at her ears and nape escaped discipline.
    How predictable of him to wish to unwind all those tightly bound trappings, to reveal the pulsing, flesh-and-blood woman beneath. Predictable, and quite possibly stupid. Yet, the urge beat strongly in his blood, for all that.
    “My lady.”
    Her neck stiffened. She drew herself up straighter, if that were possible, then turned, her lips parted on a wordless exclamation. Her eyes gleamed pewter; her skin flickered with golden licks of light.
    “You summoned?” His bow was all exaggerated courtliness; his voice was a caress.
    Lady Roxdale’s eyes widened as she assimilated the full magnificence of his silk dressing gown. With an arrogance that seemed bred into Westruthers, she scanned him slowly, from the top of his uncombed curls to the open neck of his shirt, to the buckles of his black evening pumps.
    Her gaze met his and cut away. A trick of the light, or did a flush creep into her cheeks? Not for the first time, he marveled at the fine-grained texture of her skin, so translucent and quick to blush.
    He had a feeling this interview was about to turn interesting.
    *   *   *
     
    Jane sent up a silent prayer for forbearance. The man was impossible! How could she broach a serious matter when he stood there looking so rumpled and unrepentant and flamboyantly gorgeous?
    She knew all about the male fashion for dressing gowns of the most exotic design. Frederick had owned a version of the garment Constantine Black wore so carelessly, yet the strong hues in the Chinese silk had not flattered Frederick’s pallor.
    The garment the new baron wore seemed expressly designed to set off his dark features and olive skin. The riotous swirl of jewel tones emphasized the green of his eyes. A sliver of tanned neck and chest shouted masculinity; the absence of a cravat or a waistcoat to civilize him lent him a reckless, piratical air.
    And here she was, wading into shark-infested waters. Her stomach pitched; her hands trembled. Her heart seemed to have slipped its moorings and anchored in her throat.
    What was happening to her? She tried to resist, but her disobedient gaze kept homing in on his chest.
    “Lady Roxdale?” The amusement in his voice told her he knew exactly the effect he had on her. Her face flooded with heat.
    Wrenching her mind from the strength and grace of Constantine Black’s clavicles, she muttered, “You could have put a coat on, at least.”
    One black brow quirked. “My state of dress is the least improper aspect of this meeting. Why the subterfuge? Don’t you know I debauch virtuous maidens for breakfast?”
    “How you can stand there and boast of your reputation!” she snapped. “I assure you, I am