Read Online Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) by Cheryl Holt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cheryl Holt
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your shoulders whenever I look at you.”
“Mr. Hubbard! You appear to believe I’m someone other than who I am.”
“You’re not a nun. Not yet anyway.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your friend, Sister Rowena, mentioned it to Ralston.”
“Maybe Rowena should be more circumspect.”
He shrugged. “I don’t deem it a particularly astonishing admission, though I wonder why you’ve never taken your vows.”
“I haven’t been ready to take my vows.”
His eyes searched hers, probing for details she was quite sure she shouldn’t permit him to ascertain. She glanced away, and he chuckled.
“Since you’re not ready for your vows, perhaps you’re ready for something else. If you commit a few sins, it’s not as if anyone will ever realize it.”
“ I would know.”
“Who cares about you? So long as you never confess, you could pretend it never happened.”
“Is that how you go through life, excusing your misdeeds and pretending you haven’t transgressed?”
“Yes, it’s how I always behave, and it’s been grand so far. I enjoy myself very much, which is more than I can say from what I’ve seen of you.”
He tugged on her wimple, not with enough force to remove it, but undeniably indicating that he’d like to and would with the slightest encouragement.
“Stop that!” she scolded, and she batted him away.
He leaned in and whispered, “Live a little, Sister Faithful. Let down your pretty hair.”
He was so near, his breath brushing her cheek, and his closeness was so thrilling that she was surprised her knees didn’t buckle. Still though, she had sufficient control of her wits to draw away and frown.
“Are you asking if I’d be amenable to a…a…flirtation?”
“I’m an expert at seduction,” he said. “If you get bored while you’re here, let me know, and we’ll find out if you have a knack for it yourself.”
She blushed furiously and started toward her bedchamber.
“Goodnight, Sister,” he called to her retreating back.
“Goodnight, Mr. Hubbard.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I can’t wait,” she groused.
“Neither can I.”
There was a taunting tone in his remark that made her halt and peer over at him. He was staring at her like a cat toying with a mouse, like a hawk circling its prey.
“Leave me be,” she said. “Please?”
Looking decadent and debauched, he grinned. “I’ll try—but not very hard.”
“I don’t want this from you. If I’ve acted in a manner that was—”
He cut her off. “I think , Sister Faithful, that you’re lonely and scared.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Liar.” He smirked. “I also think I might be able to give you exactly what you need to fix what’s wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“Isn’t there?”
The question hung in the air between them, and while she yearned to apprise him of the numerous reasons she was better than ever, the truth was that he was correct. She was a mess, confused and afraid and certain all her decisions were idiotic.
But she’d never admit it.
She spun and fled before she could devise an excuse to remain.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Checkmate.”
“How did you do that so fast?”
Rowena scowled at Mr. Robertson. She was excellent at chess, but he’d bested her in twelve moves, and he’d barely hesitated in order to consider his strategy.
“My father was a master at it,” he said, “and we played all the time.”
“He taught you?”
“Yes, and my brothers too, but they’re all smart as the devil, so it was impossible to beat them.”
“So you’ve taken to beating me instead. Do you enjoy beating women?”
“Well…” He paused, realized the double entendre, and laughed. “You’re a sly one, aren’t you? Yes, I like beating women—at chess and other games.”
She laughed too, liking how young she felt, how free and liberated from the restrictions of a life she loathed. Except for the stupid wimple covering her hair, she might have been any
“Mr. Hubbard! You appear to believe I’m someone other than who I am.”
“You’re not a nun. Not yet anyway.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your friend, Sister Rowena, mentioned it to Ralston.”
“Maybe Rowena should be more circumspect.”
He shrugged. “I don’t deem it a particularly astonishing admission, though I wonder why you’ve never taken your vows.”
“I haven’t been ready to take my vows.”
His eyes searched hers, probing for details she was quite sure she shouldn’t permit him to ascertain. She glanced away, and he chuckled.
“Since you’re not ready for your vows, perhaps you’re ready for something else. If you commit a few sins, it’s not as if anyone will ever realize it.”
“ I would know.”
“Who cares about you? So long as you never confess, you could pretend it never happened.”
“Is that how you go through life, excusing your misdeeds and pretending you haven’t transgressed?”
“Yes, it’s how I always behave, and it’s been grand so far. I enjoy myself very much, which is more than I can say from what I’ve seen of you.”
He tugged on her wimple, not with enough force to remove it, but undeniably indicating that he’d like to and would with the slightest encouragement.
“Stop that!” she scolded, and she batted him away.
He leaned in and whispered, “Live a little, Sister Faithful. Let down your pretty hair.”
He was so near, his breath brushing her cheek, and his closeness was so thrilling that she was surprised her knees didn’t buckle. Still though, she had sufficient control of her wits to draw away and frown.
“Are you asking if I’d be amenable to a…a…flirtation?”
“I’m an expert at seduction,” he said. “If you get bored while you’re here, let me know, and we’ll find out if you have a knack for it yourself.”
She blushed furiously and started toward her bedchamber.
“Goodnight, Sister,” he called to her retreating back.
“Goodnight, Mr. Hubbard.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I can’t wait,” she groused.
“Neither can I.”
There was a taunting tone in his remark that made her halt and peer over at him. He was staring at her like a cat toying with a mouse, like a hawk circling its prey.
“Leave me be,” she said. “Please?”
Looking decadent and debauched, he grinned. “I’ll try—but not very hard.”
“I don’t want this from you. If I’ve acted in a manner that was—”
He cut her off. “I think , Sister Faithful, that you’re lonely and scared.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Liar.” He smirked. “I also think I might be able to give you exactly what you need to fix what’s wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“Isn’t there?”
The question hung in the air between them, and while she yearned to apprise him of the numerous reasons she was better than ever, the truth was that he was correct. She was a mess, confused and afraid and certain all her decisions were idiotic.
But she’d never admit it.
She spun and fled before she could devise an excuse to remain.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Checkmate.”
“How did you do that so fast?”
Rowena scowled at Mr. Robertson. She was excellent at chess, but he’d bested her in twelve moves, and he’d barely hesitated in order to consider his strategy.
“My father was a master at it,” he said, “and we played all the time.”
“He taught you?”
“Yes, and my brothers too, but they’re all smart as the devil, so it was impossible to beat them.”
“So you’ve taken to beating me instead. Do you enjoy beating women?”
“Well…” He paused, realized the double entendre, and laughed. “You’re a sly one, aren’t you? Yes, I like beating women—at chess and other games.”
She laughed too, liking how young she felt, how free and liberated from the restrictions of a life she loathed. Except for the stupid wimple covering her hair, she might have been any
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