Read Online Trapped by Scandal by Jane Feather - Free Book Online Page A

I’ll roll them up. I don’t want to cut them, because you’re not going to be wearing them for very long.”
    Hero assumed he meant that she would have her own washed soon enough. She sat on the bed while he knelt and rolled the britches up to her mid-calves. This easy intimacy was making her feel rather strange. When his fingers brushed over her bare legs as he worked, she had to control a little jump of wholly pleasurable sensation. She recognized the feeling and knew it for what it was: a pure, simple jolt of lust. With a surge of embarrassment, she hoped that William couldn’t sense it. But he looked up at her suddenly, and his tawny gold eyes held a look of startled recognition.
    Then he smiled slowly, sitting back on his heels, looking at her with a quizzical gleam, his hands encircling her bare ankles. “I suspect that my lady is something of an adventuress,” he said, running his hands up her calves.
    â€œPerhaps,” Hero replied, holding herself very still, fighting the urge to brush that errant lock of hair from his forehead. “We live in adventurous times.”
    â€œHazardous, certainly,” he agreed, releasing his hold and standing up in one easy movement. He leaned over her and tilted her chin with his finger, bringing his mouth to hers. It was a light touch, a promise of a kiss, but it sent her blood thrilling through her body like a bolt of lightning. He straightened. “We’ll continue this later.”
    Hero remained sitting on the bed after the door had closed softly behind him, wondering what exactly had just happened. It was one thing to harbor a secret impulsive attraction for the Viscount St. Aubery, quite another so shamelessly to reveal that powerful attraction to its object. But it seemed that it was not unreciprocated.
    After a while, she slid off the bed and thrust her feet into her wooden clogs. The coffee he had brought her was cold. She poured it out of the window with the dirty water in the basin, shouting the customary warning cry, then slowly made her way down to the kitchen.

SIX

    W illiam and Marcus were the only men in the kitchen when Hero entered. They were sitting at the table deep in conversation but broke off as she came in. “Good morning, Marcus.” She greeted him with a smile.
    â€œGood morning, Hero. Coffee?”
    â€œThank you.” A copper jug of coffee stood on the table beside the remnants of a loaf and a jar of apricot jam with a knife stuck in it. She filled her coffee mug and broke off a piece of bread, spreading it with jam before sitting down. “Did I interrupt something?”
    â€œIt concerned you,” William said. “We were trying to decide what exactly we’re going to do about the situation.”
    Hero bristled. “I don’t think I’m a situation , and I don’t particularly care for being discussed like some external problem. I will decide for myself what I shall do next.”
    â€œWe are accustomed to making decisions as a group,” William told her sharply. “We’re all dependent for our safety on one another. There’s no room for unilateral decisions or actions.”
    â€œShould I just leave?” she inquired sweetly, reflectingrather less sweetly that the moment in the upstairs chamber was clearly not at the forefront of his mind.
    â€œI’m afraid that’s not an option,” William stated. “You know too much, my dear girl. We value this house, and while I’m sure you would have no intention of giving it away . . .” He shrugged. “The agents of the Committee of Public Safety are everywhere, and intolerable pressure can be brought to bear, however resolute one might be.” His eyes were flinty as he held her gaze. “I trust you take my meaning.”
    Hero did. And she had no illusions that she would be any stronger than anyone else when it came to resisting such pressure. Those cold eyes, gold as a