A Gentleman Says "I Do" by Amelia Grey Read Free Book Online Page A

bedchamber last night came from her thoughts of Mr. Iverson Brentwood, not the publisher of The Daily Herald .
    During her wakeful hours, she’d realized she’d had several firsts with Mr. Brentwood yesterday afternoon, starting with his being the first man she couldn’t get off her mind once he left her. He was also the first man to display anger toward her. Her father certainly never had. Sir Phillip Crisp was the gentlest, most kindhearted person she had ever known. He had a smile for everyone, and he laughed often. She had never seen him even mildly upset or in a bad temper with an untrained servant. Though he had certainly brought home several over the years who had tried Catalina’s patience more than once. Sir Phillip didn’t believe in lectures, reprimands, or criticisms, but many times she wished he’d been a little stricter with the staff, as well as in his own life.
    To abide by her father’s never-changing example, she had simply tried to hold on to her temper, take everything in stride, and to be kind and helpful to those he liked to deem less fortunate than the Crisps. However, when he was away, Catalina often fell short of her father’s high expectations on the way to live one’s life, as was reflected in her conversation with Mr. Brentwood late yesterday afternoon. The man had just made it impossible for her to hold her tongue as much as she would have liked.
    Mr. Brentwood was also the first man she’d met who didn’t seem to care a whit whether or not she found favor with him. That surprised her immensely. In fact, at times when she was talking with him yesterday, it was as if he wanted to make sure she didn’t approve of him. Most of the gentlemen she’d met at parties and balls during the past year were tripping over themselves to win her praise and approval so they could call on her. It was clear Mr. Brentwood had only one person on his mind yesterday—her father. And Catalina was certain if her father had been there, Mr. Brentwood wouldn’t have paid her the slightest heed. And for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom, she had wanted Mr. Brentwood to notice her—as a woman.
    It was outrageous!
    The man clearly was not someone she could be interested in as a suitor. He was too brash, too commanding, and much too comfortable with himself. If she ever met a man she wanted to court her, he would be a gentleman who had a gentle, likable, and easygoing nature, like her father.
    Catalina reached up and touched her cheek and remembered another first for her. Mr. Brentwood was the first man, other than her father, to touch her cheek. It surprised her that his touch had been so tender, languorous, and curiously comforting, coming from so strong and forceful a man. Even now, the warmth from that touch seemed to seep into her soul, bury itself there, and make a home.
    Maybe it moved her so because it was not an ordinary touch. He had intended for it to be a very sensual caress. And it was.
    He had used the backs of his fingers to gently stroke her cheek, rather than his palm as her father always had whenever he’d affectionately patted the side of her face. And he had lightly raked his knuckles across her lips, too. Her stomach curled and tightened again just thinking about the way his forward touch made her feel. She had never had anyone be forward with her until Mr. Brentwood.
    “What is it, Catalina? You keep rubbing your cheek with the back of your hand. There’s nothing there I can see. Though you know my sight isn’t as good as it used to be.”
    Catalina jerked her hand down to her lap. “Oh, sorry, Auntie. No, nothing’s wrong. I was just deep in thought about what I must say to Mr. Frederick.”
    “Truly?” her aunt asked with a sparkle in her light green eyes. “By the look on your face, I would have thought you were dreaming about dancing with that handsome Mr. Brentwood who called on you yesterday.”
    Catalina hoped no telltale blush gave her away. She didn’t like getting