Confessions of a Scoundrel by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page B

it would hurt a lot. “You’re bruising my wrist.”
    She was finally released, though she could tell he did not believe her for a moment. She tried to match St. John’s mocking smile with one of her own, though the way her cheeks pulled, she feared it was more a baring of the teeth than a smile. “Tell me, Mr. St. John; do you believe in witchery? You make it sound as if I held your brother under a spell of some sort.”
    â€œYou used your physical attractions to gain my brother’s interest. We will not stand for it.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œMy brothers and I.”
    Good God, the entire family thought she was some sort of marry-by-morning type of woman, desperately searching for a wealthy husband. It would be a remarkably irritating idea if it were not so humorous.
    And poor Chase! She’d had no idea the extent of his suffering, but now she wondered if perhaps his brothers weren’t suffocating him. Had she any sense, she would tell Brandon St. John the truth and send him on his way, her foot firmly planted on his muscular rump.
    Unfortunately, he had engaged her sense of the ridiculous with his pompous attitude. It was so much more amusing to taunt the man than just to blurt the colorless truth. She returned to her chairand folded her hands in her lap in a demure fashion. “Mr. St. John, I must confess to something.”
    He didn’t look in the least impressed. In fact, he appeared to be a little annoyed. “What’s that?”
    â€œI am very fond of your brother.” She looked at Brandon through her lashes. “Very, very fond.”
    His jaw tightened, his glance ice blue and as cold as the Thames in the dead of winter. “I do not take it lightly when someone tries to take advantage of a member of my family.”
    â€œAdvantage? How do you know he hasn’t been trying to take advantage of me ?”
    â€œChase is not the type of man to take advantage of anyone. Besides,” Brandon’s gaze flickered over her with dismissive intent, “how could anyone take advantage of a woman like you?”
    Verena’s humor fizzled into a flash of fire. She never lost her temper, never uttered a less-than-ladylike word, and never, ever spat. But at this moment, she found that she had to fight the urge to do all three.
    What Brandon St. John really needed was a good firm slap across the face followed by a sound foot stomping. And perhaps, for good measure, she might throw in a quick punch to the ribs, too.
    Just one, of course. She wasn’t a mean woman. Not yet, anyway.
    Still, his arrogance cried out for retaliation of some sort. And in teaching Brandon St. John a lesson, Verena would be doing a favor to all of womanhood.
    Heavens! If she considered it much longer, she’d feel positively noble. Perhaps she should take his money. Oh, not to spend—she had herown means of raising funds—but just to prove to him that she was not to be toyed with. She’d take his bank draft, yank it right from his fingers, and then wait for him to find out from Chase that he’d been duped. It was a delightful notion. And when the high and lordly Brand St. John came crawling back to retrieve his funds, she’d have him right where she wanted him. Her humor returned and she grinned.
    Brandon did not seem to enjoy her display of humor. His scowl grew in matched proportion. “Lady Westforth, you will tell my brother you are not interested in him. That you wish him to leave you be. And in return, I shall pay you a goodly amount. It’s a simple arrangement, one made every day.”
    â€œOh, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause I’m insulted.”
    His brows rose. “And?”
    She leaned forward and said in a gentle tone, “When I feel insulted, it makes me somewhat cantankerous. And thus it is impossible for me to agree to anything. You do want me to agree to take your offer,