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Authors: Julia London
Tags: Romance
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Michael’s thumb as he swept it away. His kiss was drugging her,
sweeping her from reality, sparking a flame in her she had never before felt.
The assault on her senses seemed endless, and when he at last lifted his head, a
shiver coursed her spine and made her shudder violently.
She had never been kissed, not like that. Stunned, Abbey could do nothing but
stare at his lips, conscious of a lingering warmth that spread slowly down
to
her toes. He was smiling down at her, a cocky, self-assured smile, and as the
magic of the kiss began to wear off, she slowly grew embarrassed and resentful.
It was cruel thing to have done after everything he had said. Abbey pushed angrily against his chest, stumbling backward.
“That was badly done!” she spat. He laughed and folded his arms across his
chest. Without so much as a glance at him, she brushed past him and walked with
regal grace to the door. Michael reached it before her and yanked it open, standing in the doorway so that she would have to step around him to quit the
room.
She could not resist looking at him. He stared deep into her eyes, and Abbey
suddenly knew those piercing gray orbs could see right through her bravado. She
raised her chin a notch.
“Think on what I have said, Abigail,” he intoned with a bow.
She bestowed a sufficiently hateful glare on him and snapped, “My name is Abbey
V before sweeping out of the room.
Chapter 4
Michael closed the door behind her and stood with his hand on the brass handle
for a long moment, commanding himself to get hold of his conflicting emotions
while he savored her taste on his lips. He had expected an ugly spinster!
A
dirty, ragged hellion! Not a woman like that.
Angry with himself, Michael marched straight for the sideboard, poured himself a
large whiskey, and downed it in two gulps. She was absolutely radiant, and
certainly more so than he would have ever dreamed possible. Very good, Michael.
Crush her then lust after her. Very charming. He turned abruptly and walked to
the mantel, deep in thought. He could not forget the look in her eyes when he
told her he would not have her under any circumstances. The contagious
smile and
sparkle in her eye had dimmed rapidly, and he thought he had never seen a more
dejected look in his life. But he was determined to feel no pity or esteem for
her. He was determined to dissuade her from this ridiculous marriage.
But why, in God’s name, did she have to turn out to be such a beauty?
He unconsciously gripped the back of a wing-backed leather chair and glared into
his empty glass.
The circumstances were loathesome at best, and revolting in every way.
From the
day he had received the papers from Carrington’s solicitor, Mr. Strait, he had
been plagued with resentment and fury. Mr. Strait’s letter made it very plain
that if Michael refused, he would be breaking a very legal agreement and risk
certain lawsuits from half of London. On top of that, Abigail Carrington would
lose every penny her father had left her; all but a paltry annuity would go to pay his debts.
Michael could have lived with those two possibilities. He was sure he would be
vindicated if he fought the absurd agreement in the courts. If the little beastie lost her money, well, he was sorry for that, and would have settled a
sum on her that would at least allow her to live in relative comfort the rest of
her days.
What drove him to despair was the reality that in trying to sort through all this mess, he might lose his family’s ancestral home. He could not drag his
family’s name through the mud once more.
Moreover, Carrington had partnered with some of the most influential businessmen
in England. If they were forced to suffer losses because Michael welched on the
agreement, it was he who would suffer irreparable harm, even if he won in the
courts. No one would do business with him; he would be shunned and his powerful
shipping trade could be ruined. He would become a
sweeping her from reality, sparking a flame in her she had never before felt.
The assault on her senses seemed endless, and when he at last lifted his head, a
shiver coursed her spine and made her shudder violently.
She had never been kissed, not like that. Stunned, Abbey could do nothing but
stare at his lips, conscious of a lingering warmth that spread slowly down
to
her toes. He was smiling down at her, a cocky, self-assured smile, and as the
magic of the kiss began to wear off, she slowly grew embarrassed and resentful.
It was cruel thing to have done after everything he had said. Abbey pushed angrily against his chest, stumbling backward.
“That was badly done!” she spat. He laughed and folded his arms across his
chest. Without so much as a glance at him, she brushed past him and walked with
regal grace to the door. Michael reached it before her and yanked it open, standing in the doorway so that she would have to step around him to quit the
room.
She could not resist looking at him. He stared deep into her eyes, and Abbey
suddenly knew those piercing gray orbs could see right through her bravado. She
raised her chin a notch.
“Think on what I have said, Abigail,” he intoned with a bow.
She bestowed a sufficiently hateful glare on him and snapped, “My name is Abbey
V before sweeping out of the room.
Chapter 4
Michael closed the door behind her and stood with his hand on the brass handle
for a long moment, commanding himself to get hold of his conflicting emotions
while he savored her taste on his lips. He had expected an ugly spinster!
A
dirty, ragged hellion! Not a woman like that.
Angry with himself, Michael marched straight for the sideboard, poured himself a
large whiskey, and downed it in two gulps. She was absolutely radiant, and
certainly more so than he would have ever dreamed possible. Very good, Michael.
Crush her then lust after her. Very charming. He turned abruptly and walked to
the mantel, deep in thought. He could not forget the look in her eyes when he
told her he would not have her under any circumstances. The contagious
smile and
sparkle in her eye had dimmed rapidly, and he thought he had never seen a more
dejected look in his life. But he was determined to feel no pity or esteem for
her. He was determined to dissuade her from this ridiculous marriage.
But why, in God’s name, did she have to turn out to be such a beauty?
He unconsciously gripped the back of a wing-backed leather chair and glared into
his empty glass.
The circumstances were loathesome at best, and revolting in every way.
From the
day he had received the papers from Carrington’s solicitor, Mr. Strait, he had
been plagued with resentment and fury. Mr. Strait’s letter made it very plain
that if Michael refused, he would be breaking a very legal agreement and risk
certain lawsuits from half of London. On top of that, Abigail Carrington would
lose every penny her father had left her; all but a paltry annuity would go to pay his debts.
Michael could have lived with those two possibilities. He was sure he would be
vindicated if he fought the absurd agreement in the courts. If the little beastie lost her money, well, he was sorry for that, and would have settled a
sum on her that would at least allow her to live in relative comfort the rest of
her days.
What drove him to despair was the reality that in trying to sort through all this mess, he might lose his family’s ancestral home. He could not drag his
family’s name through the mud once more.
Moreover, Carrington had partnered with some of the most influential businessmen
in England. If they were forced to suffer losses because Michael welched on the
agreement, it was he who would suffer irreparable harm, even if he won in the
courts. No one would do business with him; he would be shunned and his powerful
shipping trade could be ruined. He would become a
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