Read Online Rules of Surrender by Christina Dodd - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christina Dodd
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her fingers and as she moved away, she uttered words that made Charlotte’s blood run cold. ”I think it’s time you knew the real reason I brought you here, don’t you?“
CHAPTER 7
As Charlotte stepped onto the terrace, a solitary Wynter leaned against the balustrade and watched her. ”You must have been talking to my mother.“
Still dazed by her encounter with Adorna, she stared at the man caressed by golden sunlight and wondered if he could read her thoughts. ”How did you know?“
He smiled, and good heavens, what a smile it was. His chin came up, his lips swept wide, the angles of his face became curves, leaving Charlotte in no doubt of his amusement and enjoyment. The children frolicked on the lawn. She should reprimand them for their shouts and their wildness, but Wynter’s smile distracted her.
Pushing himself away from the railing, he went to the small, square, white iron table, set with four places, and pulled back the chair for her. ”Mother tends to engender a sense of wonder.“ As she seated herself, he spoke close to her ear. ”And you look wonderful.“
His breath whispered across the nape of her neck, and he sounded so sincere that for a moment Charlotte struggled with her composure.
Dear heavens, returning to Surrey was proving more of a trial than she had anticipated. But she was a strong and scrupulous woman, and higher morals must prevail.
Someone should tell Wynter that. He still leaned forward, his hands resting one on each side of the back of her chair close against her shoulders, his clean scent surrounding her, and he was watching her profile. True, she couldn’t see him as she stared straight ahead, but she felt that gaze on her skin and she knew, she just knew, he was still smiling. Laughing. At her.
Confident, handsome, odious man.
Yes, higher morals must prevail, and she was just the woman to tell him. In truth, she would even enjoy delivering the set-down. Turning toward him, she wasn’t at all surprised to find his face far too close to her own. Yet she didn’t back up, or in any way indicate how impressive—that is to say, offensive —she found his nearness. ”My lord, I am the governess. I am here for your children’s well-being. I hope you understand me when I say I have no interest in you or your smiles or your earring or your endless flirtatiousness.“ Having said more than she meant to, she snapped her mouth shut.
Had she just said that to her employer? Dear heavens. That was unacceptable.
His smile grew even broader. ”The thing I like about you, Lady Miss Charlotte, is that you tell truth. That is a very rare quality among the English.“
Automatically she said, ”Englishmen always tell the truth.“
He chuckled, a rumble of contagious mirth that deepened his dimples and crinkled the corners of his eyes. ”You are as fresh as the morning dew on spring grass, as delightful as a shower after a long drought. But you are not so great a fool as to believe that.“
She stared at him, caught by the faint accent that might be growing on her. ”No. I am not.“
He pressed his palm against her spine right between her shoulder blades. ”Can you tell when a man speaks truth?“
”I pride myself on the ability to weigh the likelihood that a man—or a woman, or a child—is lying to me.“ She wanted, needed, to inhale deeply… but he touched her, he looked right in her face, and she didn’t want him to see her indulging a physical need. Any physical need. Slowly, cautiously, she calmly finished, ”The possibilities, when taken with a thorough knowledge of certain involuntary actions performed by a perjurer, discern their falsehoods.“ The last three words came out in a rush.
He watched her carefully. ”So you can tell if a man speaks truth,“ he prodded.
She allowed herself to sigh, hoping he would think her exasperated. ”Yes. Yes, I can.“
”Then you will know that I not lying when I say you are wonderful.“
Not only did the breath freeze in
CHAPTER 7
As Charlotte stepped onto the terrace, a solitary Wynter leaned against the balustrade and watched her. ”You must have been talking to my mother.“
Still dazed by her encounter with Adorna, she stared at the man caressed by golden sunlight and wondered if he could read her thoughts. ”How did you know?“
He smiled, and good heavens, what a smile it was. His chin came up, his lips swept wide, the angles of his face became curves, leaving Charlotte in no doubt of his amusement and enjoyment. The children frolicked on the lawn. She should reprimand them for their shouts and their wildness, but Wynter’s smile distracted her.
Pushing himself away from the railing, he went to the small, square, white iron table, set with four places, and pulled back the chair for her. ”Mother tends to engender a sense of wonder.“ As she seated herself, he spoke close to her ear. ”And you look wonderful.“
His breath whispered across the nape of her neck, and he sounded so sincere that for a moment Charlotte struggled with her composure.
Dear heavens, returning to Surrey was proving more of a trial than she had anticipated. But she was a strong and scrupulous woman, and higher morals must prevail.
Someone should tell Wynter that. He still leaned forward, his hands resting one on each side of the back of her chair close against her shoulders, his clean scent surrounding her, and he was watching her profile. True, she couldn’t see him as she stared straight ahead, but she felt that gaze on her skin and she knew, she just knew, he was still smiling. Laughing. At her.
Confident, handsome, odious man.
Yes, higher morals must prevail, and she was just the woman to tell him. In truth, she would even enjoy delivering the set-down. Turning toward him, she wasn’t at all surprised to find his face far too close to her own. Yet she didn’t back up, or in any way indicate how impressive—that is to say, offensive —she found his nearness. ”My lord, I am the governess. I am here for your children’s well-being. I hope you understand me when I say I have no interest in you or your smiles or your earring or your endless flirtatiousness.“ Having said more than she meant to, she snapped her mouth shut.
Had she just said that to her employer? Dear heavens. That was unacceptable.
His smile grew even broader. ”The thing I like about you, Lady Miss Charlotte, is that you tell truth. That is a very rare quality among the English.“
Automatically she said, ”Englishmen always tell the truth.“
He chuckled, a rumble of contagious mirth that deepened his dimples and crinkled the corners of his eyes. ”You are as fresh as the morning dew on spring grass, as delightful as a shower after a long drought. But you are not so great a fool as to believe that.“
She stared at him, caught by the faint accent that might be growing on her. ”No. I am not.“
He pressed his palm against her spine right between her shoulder blades. ”Can you tell when a man speaks truth?“
”I pride myself on the ability to weigh the likelihood that a man—or a woman, or a child—is lying to me.“ She wanted, needed, to inhale deeply… but he touched her, he looked right in her face, and she didn’t want him to see her indulging a physical need. Any physical need. Slowly, cautiously, she calmly finished, ”The possibilities, when taken with a thorough knowledge of certain involuntary actions performed by a perjurer, discern their falsehoods.“ The last three words came out in a rush.
He watched her carefully. ”So you can tell if a man speaks truth,“ he prodded.
She allowed herself to sigh, hoping he would think her exasperated. ”Yes. Yes, I can.“
”Then you will know that I not lying when I say you are wonderful.“
Not only did the breath freeze in
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