Claiming the Cowboys by Alysha Ellis Read Free Book Online Page B

fear.
    “Who are you?” she demanded. “You have no right to be here.”
    “I have as much right as you, my lady.” There was no subservience in his tone, yet he knew her rank.
    “If you know my title, you know this is my father’s estate.” She lifted her chin, well used to giving orders. “I insist that you leave at once.”
    “I’m not interested in your demands.”
    The man stepped forward and she saw his face for the first time. He wasn’t as handsome as Harry—few men were, but he had a hard chiselled appearance, his cheekbones high and his mouth a firm slash. A muscle fluttered alongside his jaw.
    He wore no coat or hat, just a simple white broadcloth shirt and a pair of brown breeches, his feet in a pair of serviceable boots. Not a gentleman of leisure then. Unless he was a trespasser, and he seemed far too self-assured for that, he must work on the estate. He ought to be tugging at his forelock and leaving her alone, but he didn’t seem to be aware of that.
    “Take your silly little novel and go somewhere else if my presence here offends you.” He bent over to pick up the book that had fallen to her feet. He straightened and his dark eyes flashed fire. “Where did you get this?”
    “It’s my cousin Harry’s,” she replied.
    “I know it’s Harry’s,” he said. “I want to know how you got it.”
    “Harry lent it to me.” The implications of what he said struck her. “How do you know it belongs to Harry—and how dare you call him Harry? He is Viscount Selton.”
    “I call him Harry because he’s my friend, and I know it’s his book because he lent it to me, too.”
    “He lent it to you?” Mary gasped. “You’ve read this book?”
    “I read all of Harry’s books,” he replied. “Don’t look so surprised. I can read.”
    “That’s not… How do you know…? Who are you?”
    “I’m Drake, the head gardener,” he said briefly and dismissively, his attention on the book. “Harry shouldn’t have lent this to you,” he said, thumbing through the pages. “It’s not…”
    “Suitable for a lady,” she finished for him. “Now who’s making assumptions? I can read anything I want and not be shocked by it.”
    He looked down at her, an arrested expression in his dark eyes. “Oh really,” he said and flipped to the middle. He read, his voice deep and fluent, never stumbling over the words even when the images they described made her face flame. She wanted to sink into the cushions of the daybed and never reappear but she’d boasted that she would not be shocked. She squirmed on the seat, her body stirred by new and unsettling feelings.
     
     
     
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