Read Online Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor by Rue Allyn - Free Book Online Page B

job so badly, why didn’t you just tell Madame Duval? Or does she charge her studs if for taking on clients?”
    Dutch clenched his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping and his temper in check. He hadn’t thought anything could surprise him, but Mrs. Smithfeld had, several times. He stared at the now smiling woman with the death grip on her bodice.
    “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Studs don’t pay to work, and I don’t have truck with whores. This whole thing is Duval’s deal. She tricked me into publicly paying for your services in an attempt to ruin my business reputation. She just might succeed if I don’t get out of here without being seen. I’m tying these sheets together so I can climb down from that window without breaking my legs.”
    “You don’t have truck with whores?” The woman’s voice rose again, and her smile fled.
    “Ssssh! Do you want the entire city to hear you?”
    She ignored him and continued raving. “Just what kind of stud are you? I’ve a good mind to ask for my money back.”
    Dutch had had enough. He dropped the sheets and turned on her.
    The woman retreated one step.
    “Miss, Mrs. Smithfeld, whoever you are, I keep trying to tell you that I am not a stud. I’m the very reluctant winner of your supposed virginity. The virginity Duval auctioned to the highest bidder tonight.”
    The woman’s spine straightened and her chin tucked. She hauled back and slapped him hard enough to ring his ears.
    He saw it coming, and if he’d believed she’d follow through, he might have stopped her.
    “How dare you question my virginity! You don’t even know me. I, sir, am no whore!”
    He put his hand to his stinging cheek and checked to make certain he could still move his jaw.
    The slap re-lit his simmering temper, and he advanced on her, retribution his primary goal. She cradled the hand she used to hit him against her waist, using the other to fight a losing battle with her décolletage as step for step she backed away.
    The raw panic on her face cooled his ire a bit.
    The sinking dress dragged the floor. She caught a heel in the hem, pulling the dress half off her body.
    He put out his hands to keep her from falling.
    “No!” She raised her arms as if to protect her face from his fists, giving up all hold on the recalcitrant bodice.
    He let his hands drop and closed his eyes to get a mental grip. Finally he understood what the woman had been saying all along. She wasn’t a whore. No whore behaved like this woman — well except for dropping her clothes. Whores did that all the time but not when running away from a client. Whores ran toward clients, and drugged up or not they didn’t act in ways guaranteed to make a client angry.
    He opened his eyes.
    “I’m not gonna hurt … ” His jaw opened and shut. He couldn’t pull his eyes from her naked form. “For Pete’s sake, put your clothes back on.”
    He bent, tugging at the cloth around her feet.
    “No. Don’t do that.” She batted at his arms and twisted downward, trying to rescue the dress.
    “Stop fighting me,” he growled. “You’ll tear it.”
    She succeeded in getting a grip on the dress but cracked her head against his. She staggered into him.
    “Ow.” He jerked upward, the dress still in his hands.
    “Noo!” Already off balance, her tangled feet slid out from under her along with the cloth. Then her head hit the floor.
    For the third time in almost as many days, Dutch had a female at his feet. He stared at the woman sprawled before him. She was beautiful. Beautiful and naked and not moving. How had he gotten into this situation, and who would believe it if he told them? “Get up. Virgin or not, I’m not fool enough to get down there with you.”
    Nothing.
    She didn’t twitch.
    He looked at her chest to make certain she was still breathing. Rosy nipples atop small ivory mounds shifted.
    Dutch swallowed.
    Yep, she was breathing.
    He knelt beside her and grasped a surprisingly soft hand. He