Read Online Rexanne Becnel by The Matchmaker-1 - Free Book Online

however, was the fact that her family owned the estate that lay south and across the Tweed River from his own. For years now that land had lain fallow, its fertile fields and grassy valleys unavailable for farming or grazing. The steward there was old and crusty, and had refused Neville’s several offers to lease the land.
    He should have made the connection between her and that estate the moment she’d revealed her name, but he hadn’t. Perhaps he’d been too distracted by the woman and his physical reaction to her. But now that he knew who she was he needed to keep that reaction under control.
    Neville scratched down the arc of Kestrel’s powerful neck. This was his chance to approach Lady Dunmore about the lease. It would be a great boon toward his efforts to revitalize the district if he could return that land to good use. First, however, he would have to improve Lady Dunmore’s starchy daughter’s opinion of him.
    For a moment he let himself recall Olivia’s outraged expression when he’d left her standing in the hall. Even furious, with her eyes shooting daggers at him, she was magnificent. Did she know that he was her Scottish neighbor? he wondered.
    Did she know he lusted after her?
    He snorted at that. How could she not? He’d made it clear enough. She would be a long time forgetting or forgiving his insulting manner.
    Stewing over that, Neville checked Kestrel’s water bucket, then let himself out of the stall. Though he had been crude and boorish in his behavior toward her, he was not entirely to blame for his mistaken assumption about Miss Olivia Byrde. What else was a man to think of a woman possessed of so lush a body, so fiery a temperament, and so husky and compelling a voice? Add to that rich auburn hair, flashing green
eyes—no, hazel, he amended, grinning as he recalled her words—and a tendency to wander around in the dark hours before dawn. It was no wonder he’d been mistaken about her.
    Then there was that curious journal she valued so highly.
    He paused in the stable door and surveyed the yard without really seeing anything. He’d been wondering all morning what those entries meant, and he’d come to the only conclusion left. It was not the men’s values and shortcomings as customers she had noted. Rather, it was their value as husbands. Like every other woman of her age and class, Miss Olivia Byrde was searching for a husband.
    He chuckled out loud. What a mercenary little thing she was, weighing the positive and negative aspects of every man she met. How well they danced; their personal habits; their gambling and drinking and devotion to their mothers.
    Neville laughed again. He supposed to a young woman those might appear important aspects of a potential husband’s temperament. But there had been thirty-eight entries in her book. He knew because he’d counted them. Did that mean she’d considered and rejected all of them? Or were some of the men still under consideration?
    Was she even now entering her opinion about him?
    That sobered him at once. For if she wrote anything about him in that book it was certain to be unflattering. What would she say? A drunken boor. A lecherous cad, crude and insulting. And unrepentant.
    Though she might conceal the circumstances of their first meeting, as they’d agreed, that did not mean she wouldn’t discourage her mother from entering into a lease agreement with him.
    “Damnation,” he swore. Once again he’d let this unholy thirst of his make a fool of him. Only this time it was no milkmaid or tavern wench he’d revealed his baser nature to. Olivia Byrde was a gentlewoman, a peer’s daughter, and a virgin, protected from men like him. With her striking looks and bold manner she’d no doubt slapped several faces before his.
    He rubbed his cheek, remembering her furious expression
and the fire in her eyes more than the pain of her blow. He also remembered the lust she’d roused in him, a lust he’d not felt in many a year.
    He’d not