A Christmas Wedding Wager by Michelle Styles Read Free Book Online Page B

remembered how gentle his fingers had been when he'd helped her in the castle's grounds. 'I will bid you goodnight.'

    His eyes danced. His hand smoothed an errant lock from his forehead. 'I promise to take good care of the site for your father and report back on the progress. There should be no more careless accidents.'
    'I thought you would. I have, of course, no interest.' She picked up the candlestick. This time she held it firmly, to prevent the flame from wavering.
    'You never were a very good liar, Miss Harrison.' He turned on his heel and went back into his bedroom.
    Emma resisted the temptation to scream.

    Taking small bites of her toast, and keeping an eye on the breakfast room door, Emma attempted to appear nonchalant. It was just possible that if she encountered Jack she could persuade him to take her to the bridge. Somebody needed to explain the situation to Mudge.
    'Are you seeking to waylay me and insist on going to the site?' Jack's sardonic voice asked.
    Emma crumbled the bread between her fingers, annoyed that her stratagem had been quickly discerned.
    'I had no intention of doing that. I believe Mudge will be capable of answering your questions,' Emma replied through gritted teeth.
    'It is good to know you have such faith in the foreman.'
    'He has been with my father for six years.'
    'But there is something about him that bothers you.' Jack's eyes narrowed. He was a contrast to last night. Last night he had looked untamed, but today he was the picture of the successful businessman. Neither hair nor button was out of place. His white gloves shone against the cane. And his top hat was a brilliant black. But there was something in the way he walked that hinted at danger, the untamed male animal.
    'He is insistent on the current course of the bridge. He thinks trying to save the castle keep is a romantic folly.'
    'And is it?'
    'I don't believe in romance, Mr Stanton, do you?' Emma looked hard at Jack.
    'If I did not believe, I would not be building bridges across impossible chasms,' came the enigmatic reply. 'Sometimes you can do nothing but believe.'
    He touched his finger to his hat and was gone.

    'Have you met him?' Lucy Charlton asked as Emma came into the young matron's drawing room. She had decided, in the light of the circumstances, she was better off doing the rounds of visiting rather than fuming at home. Luckily it was one of her oldest friend's at home days.
    Several other women, including Lucy's mother and unmarried sister-in-law, were there, delicately sipping tea, doing fine sewing and eating cakes.
    'Met who?' Emma felt a prickling at the back of her neck. 'Who is the new victim of the Newcastle gossip mill to be?'
    'Jack Stanton,' Lucy said with a decided snap of her mouth. 'I hear he is up overseeing your father's bridge.'
    My bridge, Emma wanted to say. It is my bridge. Instead she smiled politely as she sank gracefully down on a sofa. 'He is staying with us. You know how my father likes to talk engineering.'
    The women in the drawing room gave a chorus of laughter.
    'But tell me about him. Is he as handsome as they say?'
    'Forget handsome, is he as rich?' Lucy's young sister-in-law, Lottie, clapped her hands together, her china-blue eyes shining, and her crown of golden ringlets bobbing. 'I heard that he had his carriage and a team of matched greys sent up from London by train this morning.
    More than twenty thousand per year--can you imagine?'
    A frisson of excitement ran through the company, and the other women began asking questions all at once. Pincushions, fans and cups were tossed aside as the room hummed with excitement.
    'Let Emma speak,' Lucy said with a smile. 'Sometimes, Lottie, I think Henry is correct when he says that you have fewer manners than a baboon.'
    Lottie subsided with a practised pout. 'But I only want to know.'
    'He is from Newcastle. He used to work for my father. He left about seven years ago, and returned yesterday.' Emma accepted a cup of tea and delicately