Read Online Two Sinful Secrets by Laurel McKee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laurel McKee
Ads: Link
brother’s ear. Dominic glanced across the room at
Sophia, his eyes narrowed.
And she wondered exactly what was going on with that far too intriguing man…
Chapter Six
D amn it, Dominic! Are you trying to kill me?” Patrick Branson, one of the company’s
actors, cried as Dominic drove him back into the scenery as they practiced a stage
duel. ��I warn you, I have no understudy. And opening night is only two days away.”
The haze of intense concentration that fell over Dominic when he was deeply immersed
in a role suddenly lifted, and he realized he held the man pinned down onstage with
the point of his rapier. He laughed ruefully, and swiped his shirtsleeve over his
damp brow as he stepped back.
“Sorry, Branson,” he said. “I just got carried away.”
Branson leaped to his feet. “I suppose it’s all in service to the play, so no harm
done. I only hope I never
really
make you that angry with me.”
“Just remember your lines and we’ll have no problems,” Dominic said jokingly. In truth,
the anger inside him that drove him to practice the fight so fiercely over and over
wasn’t with anyone around him, but with himself. He hadn’t been able to get Mrs. Westman
out of his mind all day, and it was maddening.
He kept seeing her eyes, that strange violet-blue color, and her flashing smile. He
kept remembering what it felt like to hold her in his arms as they danced, how she
laughed and leaned into him as they turned and swayed, as if their bodies had been
made to fit together just like that. The way she looked up at him, wide-eyed, breathless,
almost startled, as if she felt that sudden, sharp pull between them as fiercely as
he did.
His desire for Mrs. Westman had come over him like a lightning strike, hot and swift
and just as unwanted. It had been a long time since he needed a woman like that, and
he hated the feeling of being so out of control. That wildness that threatened to
burst free just from the smell of her perfume.
And then James had said she used to be a Huntington—and that she had Mary Huntington’s
old diary, which was surely full of secrets she could wield over his family. The one
woman he had wanted in so long, and she came from
that
family.
Dominic shook his head and turned away to toss down the rapier. He hadn’t even thought
of a woman since Jane died, not beyond a quick dalliance or a light flirtation. And
his memories of Jane, so sweet and gentle, a haven of goodness in the world, were
very different from the raw heat he felt when he touched Mrs. Westman.
A woman like that would never be a haven from the tumult of his life, a serene calm
over his own turbulent nature. No, she would drag a man out into the very midst of
the world, into violence and upheaval and noise, and glorious, messy life.
He had not known her long, but he did know
that
about her. When he looked into her bright, laughing eyes andsaw the restlessness there, it was as if he looked at himself. At everything he had
been trying so hard to tame—his anger, his wildness. He wanted to let go of the past,
of his family’s hatred toward the Huntingtons, and settle down into a peaceful life.
A woman like Jane could help him become that man he wanted to be.
A woman like Mrs. Westman, no, Lady Sophia, would only push him to greater folly.
And yet every instinct told him to go out and find her again. To discover all her
secrets.
A towel was suddenly tossed over his head, and Dominic swept it off and spun around
in one quick motion, that anger roused in him again. He saw it was Brendan who stood
there, a sardonic smile on his scarred face, as if he dared Dominic to fight him.
Dominic balled the towel up in his fist and stepped back. His quarrel wasn’t with
his brother any more than it was with Branson.
It was only with himself.
“You
are
a bear today, Dom,” Brendan said. “Surely the play isn’t that bad.”
“It’s not
Sophia, his eyes narrowed.
And she wondered exactly what was going on with that far too intriguing man…
Chapter Six
D amn it, Dominic! Are you trying to kill me?” Patrick Branson, one of the company’s
actors, cried as Dominic drove him back into the scenery as they practiced a stage
duel. ��I warn you, I have no understudy. And opening night is only two days away.”
The haze of intense concentration that fell over Dominic when he was deeply immersed
in a role suddenly lifted, and he realized he held the man pinned down onstage with
the point of his rapier. He laughed ruefully, and swiped his shirtsleeve over his
damp brow as he stepped back.
“Sorry, Branson,” he said. “I just got carried away.”
Branson leaped to his feet. “I suppose it’s all in service to the play, so no harm
done. I only hope I never
really
make you that angry with me.”
“Just remember your lines and we’ll have no problems,” Dominic said jokingly. In truth,
the anger inside him that drove him to practice the fight so fiercely over and over
wasn’t with anyone around him, but with himself. He hadn’t been able to get Mrs. Westman
out of his mind all day, and it was maddening.
He kept seeing her eyes, that strange violet-blue color, and her flashing smile. He
kept remembering what it felt like to hold her in his arms as they danced, how she
laughed and leaned into him as they turned and swayed, as if their bodies had been
made to fit together just like that. The way she looked up at him, wide-eyed, breathless,
almost startled, as if she felt that sudden, sharp pull between them as fiercely as
he did.
His desire for Mrs. Westman had come over him like a lightning strike, hot and swift
and just as unwanted. It had been a long time since he needed a woman like that, and
he hated the feeling of being so out of control. That wildness that threatened to
burst free just from the smell of her perfume.
And then James had said she used to be a Huntington—and that she had Mary Huntington’s
old diary, which was surely full of secrets she could wield over his family. The one
woman he had wanted in so long, and she came from
that
family.
Dominic shook his head and turned away to toss down the rapier. He hadn’t even thought
of a woman since Jane died, not beyond a quick dalliance or a light flirtation. And
his memories of Jane, so sweet and gentle, a haven of goodness in the world, were
very different from the raw heat he felt when he touched Mrs. Westman.
A woman like that would never be a haven from the tumult of his life, a serene calm
over his own turbulent nature. No, she would drag a man out into the very midst of
the world, into violence and upheaval and noise, and glorious, messy life.
He had not known her long, but he did know
that
about her. When he looked into her bright, laughing eyes andsaw the restlessness there, it was as if he looked at himself. At everything he had
been trying so hard to tame—his anger, his wildness. He wanted to let go of the past,
of his family’s hatred toward the Huntingtons, and settle down into a peaceful life.
A woman like Jane could help him become that man he wanted to be.
A woman like Mrs. Westman, no, Lady Sophia, would only push him to greater folly.
And yet every instinct told him to go out and find her again. To discover all her
secrets.
A towel was suddenly tossed over his head, and Dominic swept it off and spun around
in one quick motion, that anger roused in him again. He saw it was Brendan who stood
there, a sardonic smile on his scarred face, as if he dared Dominic to fight him.
Dominic balled the towel up in his fist and stepped back. His quarrel wasn’t with
his brother any more than it was with Branson.
It was only with himself.
“You
are
a bear today, Dom,” Brendan said. “Surely the play isn’t that bad.”
“It’s not
Similar Books
