A Heart in Jeopardy by Holly Newman Read Free Book Online Page A

body. She felt heat radiating from his body and smelled his musky, masculine odor. Her heart beat faster. Confused, she tried to pull away, but Chrissy would not let her.
    "Chrissy, please dear...." Leona said, her voice huskier than before.
    Amusement brought the boyish charm back into Nigel Deveraux's face. He did not seem the least inclined to break the intimate embrace nor—damn him—to feel any of the wild, alien surging that pulsed through her body. In fact, to steady Leona he put his arm around her shoulders. Leona scowled pointedly over her shoulder at his offending arm. He ignored her.
    Leona didn't know how long they would have stood there like that if Maria hadn't audibly cleared her throat reminding them all of her presence. That sound served its purpose, for Chrissy shyly dropped her arms and self-consciously backed away. The next thing Leona knew, she and Nigel Deveraux were ten feet apart, though she couldn't have said who moved first or fastest. They glanced at each other and laughed.
    A tickling pressure welled up again in Leona's head. She pressed her handkerchief to her nose, willing the feeling to vanish. It didn't The sneeze shook her entire frame. "Oh, my goodness," she murmured before a second and third sneeze had her clinging to the edge of the sofa.
    "Didn't I tell you how it would be? Didn't I tell you? You should be in bed, Leona Clymene Leonard," scolded Maria as she bustled forward and encouraged Leona to sit on the sofa so she could tuck the blankets about her.
    Deveraux took a step forward, his brow furrowed. "Miss Leonard is ill?"
    Maria turned her strongest governess stare upon him. "Isn't it obvious? And no wonder, I say, tramping about the countryside at all hours of the night dressed like a scruffy urchin with nary a muffler about her neck—"
    "Urchin! That was Charlie's best suit of clothes when he was fifteen," Leona protested good-naturedly before ducking her head to fend off another sneeze.
    "It might have been when you left last evening, but by the time you returned that suit was only fit for the dustbin— what with the mud stains, rips, missing buttons, and all."
    "Well, it is not as if Charlie will miss it" Leona suggested with an impish smile.
    "Am I quite hearing correctly? You went about last evening in man's attire, Miss Leonard?" drawled Mr. Deveraux, fascinated. It appeared there was much to last evening's events that Sir Nathan Cruikston didn't tell him—or perhaps didn't know.
    Leona cast him a scathing look. "I could hardly climb the ivy in my skirts," she said repressively.
    He came forward to stand before her, amusement softening the hard planes of his face. "Forgive my confusion, Miss Leonard. When Sir Nathan told me you climbed in a window to rescue my niece, I assumed he meant a ground-floor window. Am I to understand from this and Chrissy's outburst that this was not the case? That your exploits ranged further afield?"
    Leona squirmed under his direct gaze and compressed her lips, wondering how best to answer him. As she saw it, any answer she gave would likely anger or amuse him at her expense. That wasn't much of a choice.
    Maria Sprockett took the matter out of Leona's hands. "She's a mite headstrong," she explained congenially.
    Chrissy came around the sofa and plopped down on the end by Leona's feet. "She said her brother did it all the time. Or at least he said he did. I wanted to escape that way, but she said no."
    Deveraux cocked an eyebrow toward his niece as he digested her comment. Then he swept the sides of his Bath blue superfine coat back and stuck his hands on his hips as he turned to face Leona, his deep, rumbling voice still carrying its new lilt of humor. "By all indications it would appear that my, ah, initial perceptions were out of line. My apologies. I doubt any woman involved in a kidnapping would succumb to something so inelegant as ague or quinsy prior to reaping her reward." His mouth twisted wryly.
    "Again, my apologies for my seeming