Read Online Randall's Romance (Behind Closed Doors) by Lee Brazil - Free Book Online
Authors: Lee Brazil
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think they're going to stash those barrels? How many caves do you think are nearby?"
"They could bury them in the sand, load them on a wagon. Quit stalling. I want to know what you're doing here if you're not one of them."
Huffing impatiently, Jason growled softly. "Did you see any carts or men digging? No? Neither did I. They're going to roll those barrels in here, and if they find us, there will be hell to pay."
"Right. Nice try."
"Oh, sacre bleu!" Swift as lightning, he snatched the pistol from Gretton's grip and tossed it across the cave. He followed up that foolish bravado by pulling the man into his arms and crushing his open mouth in a fierce, angry kiss. Instantly lust that had been simmering since he recognized Randall's voice exploded in a surge of need and want.
After a muffled protest, Randall melted against him, kissed him back with an ardor equal to his own. As though realizing what he was doing, he shoved Jason away and stumbled back a few steps himself, putting some distance between them.
Heart racing, blood roaring in his ears, Jason pulled back and stared at the man in front of him in the dim light. His eyes glittered, his moist mouth beckoned, his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. "No! Keep your distance, Danny. You wanted to talk, now talk."
Unreasonable fury at hearing the name he'd himself insisted on Randall using rushed through Jason. He tugged off his mask and sent it flying after the pistol. "I am part French, my mother was a ballerina, a dancer in the opera. She was a beautiful woman, and as all beautiful women do, she caught the eye of a wealthy man. He used her, tossed her aside, and left her with child when he returned to his home, England. So I am also, part British. I was raised in Britain, schooled there. My loyalties lie with my father's country, though he certainly never felt any loyalty to me or to my mother."
Pausing for breath, he noted that Gretton was looking him over, searching his features intently. A liquid heat simmered in his belly, he pushed it aside. It was time to tell the truth, to clear the air. "I might be a cousin of yours. I hope that doesn't bother you?"
"Come here." Gretton commanded in a low, gravelly voice. Jason stepped obediently closer, unsure why he found himself unable to refuse.
"My name is Jason Dancourt." He breathed softly when he came to a stop at last, so close he could feel the heat of Randall's body through the layers of their clothes.
Cold fingers combed through his hair, smoothing it back behind his ear. Randall traced the curve of his ear to the lobe, fingering it curiously. "All the Gretton's have unattached lobes. Yours are attached..."
"I am aware. My father refused to believe my mother when she said she'd never slept with another man. That was his excuse for putting her aside as well, the ear lobes." He shrugged, taking a chance and wrapping an arm around the trim waist, jerking Gretton close so their bodies were tight together. Randall could no more hide his passion than Jason could, and as their pricks aligned, he gasped out another protest.
"Not the place, Jason."
"I know." Reluctantly Jason released Randall and allowed him to retreat further into the darkness of the cave. "I am not a smuggler."
"I know."
"You do? A minute ago you were prepared to see me hanged as a traitor for smuggling information to the enemy." He raised an inquiring brow. "What changed your mind?"
"My brother Peregrine sent me here. He wanted me to look into something for him. It seems there's a leak at the home office, and a traitor is selling information to the French. Some of that information led to the death of an entire squad of Perry's men, among them one Jason Dancourt."
"I wanted him to think me dead. I didn't know who I could trust; I just knew that someone from home had betrayed us."
"You may rest assured that he does, indeed think you dead. We actually buried you in the family plot. On the edges, to be sure, but never the less, your
"They could bury them in the sand, load them on a wagon. Quit stalling. I want to know what you're doing here if you're not one of them."
Huffing impatiently, Jason growled softly. "Did you see any carts or men digging? No? Neither did I. They're going to roll those barrels in here, and if they find us, there will be hell to pay."
"Right. Nice try."
"Oh, sacre bleu!" Swift as lightning, he snatched the pistol from Gretton's grip and tossed it across the cave. He followed up that foolish bravado by pulling the man into his arms and crushing his open mouth in a fierce, angry kiss. Instantly lust that had been simmering since he recognized Randall's voice exploded in a surge of need and want.
After a muffled protest, Randall melted against him, kissed him back with an ardor equal to his own. As though realizing what he was doing, he shoved Jason away and stumbled back a few steps himself, putting some distance between them.
Heart racing, blood roaring in his ears, Jason pulled back and stared at the man in front of him in the dim light. His eyes glittered, his moist mouth beckoned, his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. "No! Keep your distance, Danny. You wanted to talk, now talk."
Unreasonable fury at hearing the name he'd himself insisted on Randall using rushed through Jason. He tugged off his mask and sent it flying after the pistol. "I am part French, my mother was a ballerina, a dancer in the opera. She was a beautiful woman, and as all beautiful women do, she caught the eye of a wealthy man. He used her, tossed her aside, and left her with child when he returned to his home, England. So I am also, part British. I was raised in Britain, schooled there. My loyalties lie with my father's country, though he certainly never felt any loyalty to me or to my mother."
Pausing for breath, he noted that Gretton was looking him over, searching his features intently. A liquid heat simmered in his belly, he pushed it aside. It was time to tell the truth, to clear the air. "I might be a cousin of yours. I hope that doesn't bother you?"
"Come here." Gretton commanded in a low, gravelly voice. Jason stepped obediently closer, unsure why he found himself unable to refuse.
"My name is Jason Dancourt." He breathed softly when he came to a stop at last, so close he could feel the heat of Randall's body through the layers of their clothes.
Cold fingers combed through his hair, smoothing it back behind his ear. Randall traced the curve of his ear to the lobe, fingering it curiously. "All the Gretton's have unattached lobes. Yours are attached..."
"I am aware. My father refused to believe my mother when she said she'd never slept with another man. That was his excuse for putting her aside as well, the ear lobes." He shrugged, taking a chance and wrapping an arm around the trim waist, jerking Gretton close so their bodies were tight together. Randall could no more hide his passion than Jason could, and as their pricks aligned, he gasped out another protest.
"Not the place, Jason."
"I know." Reluctantly Jason released Randall and allowed him to retreat further into the darkness of the cave. "I am not a smuggler."
"I know."
"You do? A minute ago you were prepared to see me hanged as a traitor for smuggling information to the enemy." He raised an inquiring brow. "What changed your mind?"
"My brother Peregrine sent me here. He wanted me to look into something for him. It seems there's a leak at the home office, and a traitor is selling information to the French. Some of that information led to the death of an entire squad of Perry's men, among them one Jason Dancourt."
"I wanted him to think me dead. I didn't know who I could trust; I just knew that someone from home had betrayed us."
"You may rest assured that he does, indeed think you dead. We actually buried you in the family plot. On the edges, to be sure, but never the less, your
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