Read Online Jo Beverley - [Malloren] by Secrets of the Night - Free Book Online Page A

now it was more than lust.
    She was driven by rampant curiosity.
    She had always been curious about everything, and now she needed to know about this. She needed to know if she’d experienced all there was, or if—as instinct, rumor, and sizzling senses said—there was more.
    Still playing with her fingers he asked, “Is it safe? Now?”
    “Yes.”
    He raised her hand again for a kiss, a slow and lingering kiss to her knuckles, and then his mouth slid to her pale inner wrist. She felt his tongue, wet on her skin. “Very well.”
    Already breathless, she braced for something swirling, something as overwhelming as the mysterious longings seething deep inside her, but he merely turned her away. “Let’s get you out of your clothes.” He began to unhook the back of her gown with calm, confident fingers.
    On their own, shocked by his prosaic tone, her hands jerked to her bodice, ready to resist. She made herself submit. But did it have to be so businesslike?
    A dozen times in the next minutes, she nearly balked. In bed, in the night, in the dark, in her nightgown, she’d been prepared. But here she was, in daytime, being stripped by a naked stranger!
    In the end, she did break free, scrambling off the bed to remove her own petticoat and stockings, leaving only her shift. It was sensible cotton with a tie neckline and elbow-length sleeves trimmed with a plain ruffle. It hung like a tent down to below her knees, but she felt nakedly, wickedly exposed.
    She dared a glance to see what he was making of all this.
    So much for stories of lust-driven men! Here she was, as good as naked in broad daylight, and he looked as interested, as excited as … as a shepherd watching the sheep! Was it all nonsense? No, she thought with a silent groan, the problem was that she kept forgetting to be Lady Gillsett. A willing lover wouldn’t act like this.
    Again, she wanted to crawl under the bed.
    She reminded herself grimly that it didn’t matter if she was ridiculous, or if he lusted after her. Only that she get with child.
    And he’d promised.
    As if coming to the same conclusion, he flipped back the sheets. She slid under them, wriggling her shift down neatly—
    There she went again! In the night, she’d pulled up her nightgown and snuggled up to him. Now she lay stiffly, covered, and as far away as she could manage without falling off the edge of the bed.
    Brand regarded his mysterious bed partner with concern. Neglected wives who sought out men to satisfy their needs were one thing. What was he to make of this?
    What he had to make of it, he supposed, was a good experience for her. He had no doubt that she had saved his life, and he remembered her gentle care of him in the night. He owed her a debt and she had specified the payment, one he could afford. It wasn’t for him to back away, even though he felt strangely uncomfortable and unsettled by her manner.
    He remembered the fear he’d awoken with. Was that the problem? Terror had faded in daylight, but a taste of it lingered. Perhaps that and his missing memories were upsetting him.
    Was this a trap?
    Why?
    Blackmail?
    It was hard to imagine how.
    An attempt to trap him into marriage?
    Her husband could be imaginary, though her wedding ring had the look of one worn for years. Or she could be a widow. Even so, how could she think to drag a man to the altar this way? Would an outraged relative charge in at a crucial moment and demand marriage or a duel? With regret, he’d fight, and if necessary, kill.
    Or would the intruder stab him as he lay, claiming righteous provocation?
    But who the devil would want to murder him? The Malloren family had enemies in high places, but it was hard to imagine any of them coming after him in the rural north. Besides, most of the enemies were owned, andhandled, by his brother the marquess. As estate manager, Brand wasn’t tangled in his brother’s political machinations.
    No, these formless terrors were the product of whatever had felled him