Read Online The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne by Natasha Blackthorne - Free Book Online Page B

sensual response he had never, ever experienced before.
    The feel of her breasts, soft yet firm, still seemed imprinted on his chest—the feel of the hardened peaks brushing his flesh as she struggled in his hold, their fullness crushing against him. It was as though torrents of blood suddenly rushed into his already throbbing erection, feeding the pulse of that pounding, insistent heart’s beat that was lodged there. His flesh pressed urgently against his trousers. He had never been so painfully hard.
    In the bed, he had greatly feared he wouldn’t be able to subdue Sunny before his baser instincts overcame his self-control. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and so he had administered a spanking.
    He opened his eyes and stared at his open palm. He fancied it still tingled with the sharp sting of making contact with that luscious, gorgeous, broad round arse of hers.
    Devil take him. He did not like feeling like this. As though he had no control over his own emotions. As though he’d been living in a tempest since the moment he’d seen her again, bent over the roses, glassy-eyed.
    Since that moment, he’d also had the uncanny sense that he’d walked into one of those dreadful novels about old castles, ghosts and deadly secrets.
    Yes, Freddy was the ghost, but none of the rest of it made much sense. Sunny should be more recovered from the shock of—no, wait, there hadn’t even been any shock to Freddy’s demise. She had married a dying man.
    Her voice had been so full of despair and horror, he had been chilled to his bones. And she appeared to have been drugged so deeply—that too had chilled him.
    He walked over to the wardrobe and took out a fresh cravat. He wrapped it about his neck then jerked the crisp cloth into a simple knot. Well, he was going to have some answers. Before sunrise, he would hear the truth about what was happening with Lady Catriona Blayne.
     
    ****
     
    “How dare you storm your way into my bedchamber!”
    Aunt Frances shouted the words stridently, yet there was a quiver to her voice and she clutched her elegant claret-colored wrapper to her neck. With her hair in rag curlers, peeking from beneath her lace-trimmed white cap, and her skin unadorned with rice powder, she looked much older than she normally did. Vulnerable.
    She sat on her bed, lifted her chin and glowered up at him. “What is the meaning of this?”
    “Explain to me exactly what is going on with Catriona.”
    “Here? Now?” Her voice rang with outrage.
    James fixed her with his sternest commander’s glare. “Yes, here and right now, tell me everything.”
    Her eyes widened. Well, he had never before directed such a tone at her. But perhaps it was high time he started doing so. Standing over her, James placed his hand on his hip. “I am waiting.”
    Anger sparked in her brown eyes. “Now see here, boy, just because you’ve inherited the title does not give you the right—”
    “I have every right. Now I’ll have the truth.”
    The door creaked open. He turned to see Grandmother Blayne enter the bedchamber, dressed in a ruby colored velvet dressing gown. “What’s all this banging on doors and shouting voices? It’s half-past two in morning!”
    Aunt Frances drew her chin up and glowered at him down her elegant narrow nose. “Lord Blayne seeks to know all there is to know about Catriona’s condition.” She spoke in a regal, dry English accent.
    “It’s no’ a fit discussion for mixed company.” Grandmother’s voice resounded with indignation.
    “I don’t care. I will hear it,” James said firmly.
    Aunt Frances directed her gaze at the old woman. “Leave us.”
    Grandmother Blayne settled into a wing chair close to the hearth. “The day I take orders from you is the day you’ll be calling the undertaker.”
    Aunt Frances compressed her lips. Then she turned back to James. “Why didn’t you ask about all of this at a more civilized hour?”
    “Once I heard what Catriona had to say, I