Read Online The Revenge of Lord Eberlin by Julia London - Free Book Online Page B

is there, Tobin?”
    When she said his name, something warm sluiced through him. Warm and soft, sinking slowly like raininto the mud in him. He moved closer and smiled with deliberate amusement. “I did not take your fish, Lily.”
    “You dammed them up,” she said impatiently. “What deal, then?”
    He considered the beautiful and haughty woman, the gems twinkling from her earlobes, the cloak fastened at the hollow of her throat. He lazily touched one of the earrings, his finger stroking her earlobe. She bent her head away. Undaunted, Tobin walked a slow circle around her, taking her in, admiring her profile, when she turned her head to see where he was. He came to a halt before her and gazed down into her sea green eyes.
    “ What deal ?” she demanded softly.
    “Allow me to ruin you properly,” he said, his gaze falling to her mouth.
    Those lush lips parted with surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
    One corner of Tobin’s mouth curved up in a wry smile. “I think you understand very well what I mean. I get you, and you get . . . your precious fish.”
    Her lips—full, rosy, moist—now gaped. “Do you dare to propose what I think you are proposing?”
    He responded by lifting his hand to her face, pressing his palm lightly against her cheek and running his thumb across her bottom lip. That simple touch of her skin stirred his blood to a simmer. He could feel himself warming, wanting.
    “Shall I say it plainly?” he murmured. “I propose tohave your virtue . . . or I will have Ashwood. The choice is yours.”
    Her lovely eyes widened, but she did not faint or cry out with alarm. Once again, she surprised him by holding her ground. “Get your hands off me,” she said low.
    Tobin removed his hand from her face. But he put it on her waist and pulled her close. Lily’s hands flew up between them, but he ignored them. The scent of flowers on this cold, wet day filled his senses; her body felt warm and lithe in his arms. Tobin could not resist her—he bent his head and touched his lips to hers, his tongue teasing the seam of them. He hardened more and would have carried on, but Lily twisted away from him and pressed her hand to her mouth, wiping his kiss from her lips in outrage.
    “Then I suppose it will be Ashwood,” he said.
    “You sir, are no gentleman,” she said, her voice shaking.
    “I never claimed to be. But have you considered that might make me the most exciting lover of all?”
    “I’ve had enough of your boorish behavior,” she said and turned to leave, but Tobin suddenly caught her by the waist and pulled her back into his chest before she could stop him. He brushed his lips against the top of her ear. “Think about it, Lily,” he murmured. “Think long . . . and hard,” he whispered, and touched his lips to her neck.
    He could feel her body tense, could feel her skinheat beneath his mouth. But she peeled his arm from her waist and stepped away. “I do not wish to bed you, Tobin. I wish to bury you.”
    Tobin remained impassive, as if it meant nothing to him, belying the desire raging in his blood. “Those are my terms, Lily. The choice is yours.”
    She turned about, her cloak sweeping a wide circle as she walked determinedly to the door, starting when she saw MacKenzie standing just inside, looking half drowned. But she swept past him and went out into the rain.
    Tobin had not heard MacKenzie enter; he walked to his friend’s side and they both watched Lily run out across the paving stones to her carriage, and the carriage pull away from the house quickly. Only then did Tobin glance at MacKenzie, who was standing with one hand in the pocket of his buckskins, the queue of his long hair wet and dripping, his gray eyes hooded. “Always had a way with the lassies, did ye no’ Scottie?”
    Tobin smiled.
    MacKenzie squinted out the door as the carriage pulled away. “But I think you play with fire there, lad.”
    “Yes,” Tobin agreed. “I enjoy the feel of the flames licking at my