Read Online The Duke Takes a Bride (Entitled Book 2) by Suzette de Borja - Free Book Online Page A

sound of a drill boring a hole in the pavement outside.
    The air out of the building was pleasantly cool. Imogen felt the blast of sunshine on her face and scrunched her eyelids tighter. She could hear a car door being opened and then she was deposited inside plush, luxurious leather seats, Dora pajamas, lanky, greasy hair and all. This was the longest, most realistic dream ever.
    “Are you cold?” His voice reminded her of rich, dark chocolate. The muted interiors walled off the everyday, pedestrian sounds outside.
    She nodded, shivering from the blast of the air-conditioning unit and also his voice. She felt him moving beside her and then the touch of something soft that smelled like him descending all around her. Her eyes popped open in surprise. She saw he had laid his coat on top of her.
    “Shall we wait for Hopkins, sir?” the driver asked respectfully.
    “It might take him a while to gather Miss Adams-Chudley’s things.” He flicked his wrist and pushed a sleeve cuff up to glance at a thin silver wristwatch. “He can get in the other car. Let’s be off.”
    “No, wait!”
    A brow cocked questioningly at her outburst. Imogen almost forgot what she had been about to say, tempted to trace with her fingertip that bold slant of dulled gold raised intriguingly. How did he do it , she wondered, trying it herself. All she managed was a squint.
    “Imogen?” he prompted when it seemed she had indeed forgotten her train of thought.
    What had she been about to say? Something about her things, about waiting− “I can’t leave Clark in the apartment!” she gasped, finally remembering.
    “Clark?” The name was uttered with confusion. “You were quite alone in the apartment. With your door unlocked .” This was said with heavy emphasis, though Imogen couldn’t really fathom why dream Julian was concerned about locked doors. Imaginary people should not be concerned about earth-bound matters, right?
    “Is he a boyfriend?”
    Why did he sound incredulous at the thought of her having a boyfriend? Did he think her so pathetic that after a single sexual encounter with him, she had spent all of their years apart still pining for him? That she was still hung up on him?
    Yep. Pitiful. No need to let him know.
    Imogen shook her head and started growing dizzy again. She stopped midway just as he was saying with some degree of consternation, “Does he know you’re sick? He’s not much of a boyfriend if he left you to manage on your own while you’re ill−”
    “Clark is a goldfish!” And she hadn’t fed him since yesterday. And his water needed to be changed! And ouch, the pinch that she gave herself felt painfully real!
    That seemed to stump him. “A goldfish?” He sounded like she had been keeping an alien life form in her apartment.
    “The one that lives in a bowl?” she prompted agitatedly, hoping Clark was still alive. It was a gift from Stella’s, her flatmate’s, ex, and even though the relationship hadn’t lasted longer than the goldfish’s expected life span in a small bowl, Imogen had grown very fond of the little swimmer. And she didn’t want the little fellow expiring on her watch.
    “Let me guess.” His light green eyes were mocking. “It’s colored gold?”
    Why did people always assume a goldfish was gold? Well, come to think of it, she did too, before Clark. “No! Actually, he’s black.”
    “A black goldfish?”
    “Clark is black because,” she paused, then her eyes grew wide. “He is a Black Moor variety of goldfish. Black Moor and the Duke of Blackmoore. Isn’t it a cute coincidence?” she giggled inanely. The flu was making her loopy.
    “Very cute, indeed,” he replied dryly, but she thought she detected a hint of amusement in the way his lip lifted at a corner.
    “Wait ‘til you see him. You’re going to love him,” she grinned weakly. “Wait here. I won’t be gone but for a few minutes.” She grabbed the door handle woozily, more to steady herself rather than to open