Read Online The Training of a Marquess by Sandra Owens - Free Book Online

was easily riled.
    What had her marriage been like? He didn’t think she grieved for Derebourne, so he guessed it had been a loveless union. Even so, why hadn’t the man made any arrangements for her? Chase had carefully read the will and the marquess had made no provisions for his wife. What kind of husband left his wife’s wellbeing to the whims of another?
    “Bloody bastard,” he told the dead Derebourne.
    The clock struck twelve. Sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon and with a sigh, he slid his legs over the side of the mattress and stood. Restless, he slipped on breeches and a shirt. He remembered seeing an inner courtyard during his tour of the abbey. With a brandy and cheroot in hand, he slipped out of the room and made his way barefoot through the quiet house.
    The abbey was U-shaped, wrapped around a slate courtyard, the main feature being a bubbling water fountain. The moon was half-full, providing enough light for him to find his way to a four-foot-tall stone wall. He placed the brandy on the ledge and hoisted himself up. When his eyes became accustomed to the pale light, he surveyed his surroundings.
    The stone wall he sat on ran from one side of the open U to the other, sealing in the courtyard. A tree on the outside of the wall rose above him, draping him in shadows. A comfortable breeze blew in, ruffling his hair. Benches and lounges were scattered about, and blooming flowers scented the air.
    If he wasn’t feeling lazy, he might retrieve his pillow and counterpane to make a bed on one of the lounges. With a flick of the flint, he lighted his cheroot, and then cradled the glass in his hand to warm the brandy.
    His thoughts returned to Claire.
    As if he’d conjured her up, the lady wandered into the courtyard. Lowering the cheroot, he rested his hand behind the wall so she wouldn’t see the glowing tip. She aimlessly roamed the courtyard, stopping now and then to smell a flower. Occasionally, she sipped from the glass of wine in her hand.
    She wore a white silk dressing gown over her nightdress, the moonlight giving it a silvery sheen. Her hair fell straight and long down her back. Like him, she was barefoot. The breeze picked up, fluttering the silk around her legs and her hair moved in shimmering waves. She raised her face to the stars, lifted her arms as if a partner stood with her and began the steps of a waltz.
    An angel danced under the stars just for him. God save him from beautiful moonlit women dressed in sheer silk.
    Her dance over, she ambled his way. He supposed it would be impolite to continue to allow her to think herself alone. Bringing the cheroot to his mouth, he took a deep drag causing the tip to glow brightly. She stilled and squinted into the shadows.
    “Lord Derebourne?”
    “I am he, although I thought we agreed you would stop lording me.”
    Her mouth curved in a smile. “So I did. What are you doing here, Derebourne?”
    “Chase,” he said. “The same as you, I suppose. Couldn’t sleep and thought to enjoy some fresh air.” He held the cheroot out for her inspection. “And to enjoy a smoke.”
    She inhaled. “I have always liked the smell of them.”
    Who could resist a woman who danced under the stars and liked the smell of a cheroot? But he must. She stepped closer. If he were smart, he’d warn her off, tell her to run away as fast as she could.
    She leaned her head to the side and peered at him. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”
    No. Yes. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”
    “Because I have never been kissed and just once in my life, I would like to know how it feels to have a man kiss me.”
    His traitorous cock stirred with talk of kissing her. “How is that possible? You were married for how long?”
    “Four years.”
    Mother of God, what kind of fool had Derebourne been? “Why me?” he asked in desperation.
    She lifted her face as if the answer might be written on the moon. Her eyes drifted back to him. “Because it seems to me you would be