A Dark and Brooding Gentleman by Margaret McPhee Read Free Book Online

towards the desk behind him. He waited until he heard the clunk of the brass candlestick being set down upon the wooden surface of the desk behind him, then he cocked the pistol and swivelled his chair round to face the intruder.
    She was standing with her back to him, looking over his desk.
    ‘Miss Allardyce.’
    She started round to face him, gave a small shriek and stumbled back against the desk. Her mouth worked, but no words sounded. He rose to his feet. Her gaze dropped to the pistol. He made it safe and lowered it. ‘Mr Hunter,’ she said and he could hear the shock in her voice and see it in every nuance of her face, of her body and the way she was gripping at the desk behind her. ‘I had no idea that you were in here.’
    ‘Evidently not.’ He let his gaze wander from the long thick auburn braid of her hair that hung over her shoulder, down across the bodice of the cotton nightdress which, though prim and plain and patched in places,did not quite hide the figure beneath. His gaze dropped lower to the little bare toes that peeped from beneath its hem, before lifting once more to those golden brown eyes. And something of the woman seemed to call to him so that, just as when he had first looked at her upon the moor, an overwhelming desire surged through him. Had this been a year ago … Had this been before all that had changed him.
    He saw her glance flicker away before coming back to meet his own and, when she did, he could see she had recovered herself and where the shock and panic had been there was now calm determination.
    ‘Mrs Hunter is having trouble sleeping. She sent me to find a book for her, in the hope that it would help.’ She made to move away and he should have let her go, but Hunter stepped closer, effectively blocking her exit.
    ‘Any book in particular?’
    Miss Allardyce gave a little shrug. ‘She did not say.’ The backs of her thighs were still tight against the desk, her hands behind her still gripping to its wooden edge.
    He leaned across her to lay the pistol down upon the smooth polished surface of the desk and the brush of his arm against the softness of her breast sent his blood rushing all the faster.
    Miss Allardyce sucked in her breath and jumped at the contact between their bodies. He saw the shock in her eyes … and the passion, and knew she was not indifferent to him, that something of the madness of this sensation was racing through her, too.
    He was standing so close that the toe of his left boot was beneath the hem of her nightdress. So close that the scent of roses and sunlight and sweet woman filled his nose. His gaze traced the outline of her features,of her cheekbones and her nose, down to the fullness of her lips. And the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her was overwhelming. A vision of them making love upon the surface of the desk swam in his mind, of him moving between the pale soft thighs beneath the thick cotton of her nightdress, of his mouth upon her breasts.
    Desire hummed loud. He had never experienced such an immediacy of feeling like that which was coursing between him and Miss Allardyce. Hunter slid a hand behind that slender creamy neck and her lips seemed to call to his. All of his promises were forgotten. He lowered his face towards hers.
    And felt the firm thrust of Miss Allardyce’s hands against his chest.
    ‘What on earth do you think you are doing, Mr Hunter?’ Her chest was rising and falling in a rapid rhythm, her breath as ragged as if they had indeed just made love.
    It was enough to shatter the madness of the moment. He realised what he was doing.
    She was staring at him, her eyes suddenly dark in the candlelight, her cheeks stained with colour.
    ‘Forgive me.’ He stepped swiftly back to place a distance between them. He was not a rake. He damn well was not. Not any more. He did not gamble. And he did not womanise. ‘A book, you say?’
    ‘If you please.’ A no-nonsense tone, unaffected, except that when she picked up the