Betina Krahn by Make Me Yours (v5.0) Read Free Book Online

benefits, he grabbed a tea sandwich and stuffed it whole into his mouth.
    A foul, vinegary taste filled his head, and he feared he might be sick. It must have shown, for she handed him the baron’s unused napkin.
    “Aggie’s tripe ’n’ turnip sandwich—not her best work,” she said as he disposed of the bite and rinsed his mouth with tea. She offered him a jam tart. “This usually kills the taste.”
    “Good Lord.” His eyes still watered as he stuffed the entire tart in his mouth and felt the beastly taste subside. “She’ll poison somebody.”
    “She’s better with more ordinary fare. She doesn’t get a chance to produce her specialties often.” Her smile was nothing short of taunting.
    “Then you will have to make changes to your staff and upgrade your cellar. You will be expected to provide food and drink for the prince and the occasional dinner for some of his intimates.”
    “Oh? And will those ‘intimates’ include you?” she asked, freshening his cup.
    “I doubt it,” he said, downing more of the brew and vowing never to set foot in her presence again once this business was finished.
    “You are not considered one of his ‘intimates’?”
    “I am pleased to say that he counts me a loyal friend. We hunt together. My family’s land borders the prince’s at Sandringham, and for years the prince has taken birds from our fields and dined at our table. While I am in London, I generally attend social functions with him. But as for being an ‘intimate’—”
    “I should think that negotiating for a mistress would certainly qualify you as one,” she said with excessive sweetness. “How fortunate for him to have an ‘acquaintance’ willing to see him to his bed when he can no longer find it and kiss women for him when he can no longer muster a pucker.”
    He swallowed repeatedly—the damned tart was stuck in his throat—and then drained his cup.
    “The men who hunt with the prince are charged with hiswelfare, madam, and do not take their ease before seeing to his safety.” He smacked the cup back onto the saucer. “And since you raised the topic, I kissed no one. I believe it was you who did the kissing.”
    She regarded him fiercely for a moment, probably deciding whether to unleash a bit of temper, then to his surprise gave a reasonable nod.
    “So it was.” The smile that bloomed from her thoughts sent a cool trickle of anxiety up his spine. “And look where it’s brought me. I shall have to be much more careful about whom I kiss in the future.”
    He rose and went to the window to find cooler air. Every time she said the word kiss, his damned collar seemed to grow a bit tighter.
    “It hardly seems fair that one of these men—” she joined him there, brandishing his list “—will receive such benefit without so much as raising a finger.” She glanced from him to the names, and back. “Tell me, which man do you think would suit me best?”
    “I have not the temerity to suggest, madam.” He clasped his hands firmly behind his back and stared past her out the window.
    “But you have had the temerity to suggest, sir. You put four men on this list, so you must have some opinion on their suitability.” She motioned with the paper, inadvertently brushing his vest with it. His abdominal muscles snapped taut. “This Thomas Bickering, is he a tall man?”
    “I couldn’t say, madam.” He refused to look at her.
    “Do you know if he is portly or balding or has snuff-yellowed teeth?”
    “I do not. I am not personally acquainted with the fellow.”
    “Yet you would marry me off to him without a blink. What about the others? Richard Stephens, Winston Martindale and Gordon Clapford?”
    “Clapford lives near Grantham, but is heir to a barony somewhere in Ireland,” he rattled off. “Stephens’s income is from some cotton mills south of London. Martindale is a friend of the Earl of Chester’s son…comes recommended by the earl. Bickering is a solicitor in Lincoln. That and