Dangerous in Diamonds by Madeline Hunter Read Free Book Online

all been a final joke to the old man. Perhaps he chuckled while he wrote that damned letter. The self-righteous ass—no, the self-righteous hypocrite —would throw his hated relative in the path of Mrs. Joyes, and Mrs. Joyes would show him what for.
    Castleford took another swallow and looked around his chamber. Flowers covered every surface, it seemed. Damned yellow ones and damned blue ones made up repetitive sprigs that showered the bed drapes, curtains, pillows—the whole damned place. He had seen enough flowers today to carpet the realm. He would probably never see another one without remembering tonight.
    She had thoroughly yielded. He knew she had. She had been all softness and sighs and sensual pliability, and he had been debating whether to lure her to a bed or take her right there. Then, suddenly, nothing. Nothing . Where in hell had she found the presence of mind to turn to stone like that?
    Women never did that with him. Never. He knew women, and he knew what he was about with them, damn it, and this was not normal . And not even a stammer afterwards. Nary a blush. She had simply turned, as if he had not been about to start stripping her naked in the prior minute. With utter composure, she had talked about some damned grapevine while he suffered the effects of a desire well encouraged then painfully thwarted.
    He began to raise the flask again but thought better of it. Hell only knew what he might do if he got raving drunk while fuming over the unfinished business with Daphne Joyes. He had never had a woman yield then retreat before, but it would not do to create a scene about it. Dignity required that he retreat himself and prepare to battle another day.
    He rose and stripped off his clothes, then tossed back the damned flowered coverlet. He washed, then dropped onto the bed. He forced his mind to think about something besides the infuriating, desirable woman sleeping somewhere else in this house, when she was supposed to be naked beside him.
    There was only one consolation about the entire matter. Except for those two deadly hours at dinner, he had not been bored much at all today.

Chapter Four
     
    P leasantly lighthearted and comfortably light-headed, Castleford hopped out of his coach and entered Brooks’s. He surveyed the reading room until his gaze lit on a deep chair where a dark crown rose above an open newspaper. He strolled over.
    “You are becoming predictable, Hawkeswell,” he said. “A man of routine. Not even domesticated a year, and look at you, haunting the clubs in the afternoon, but not having fun with the diversions they offer.”
    The newspaper lowered. Sharp blue eyes speared with annoyance. A sigh of deep forbearance sounded.
    “Castleford. How very good to see you, and so early in the day too. It is not even four o’clock. Did last night’s soiled dove lose interest before dawn?”
    Castleford dragged another thickly upholstered chair over and sat down. Hawkeswell raised one eyebrow, indicating he had not invited company.
    Castleford ignored that. The way he saw it, Hawkeswell was an old friend, and friends had responsibilities to each other. His own these days was to make sure that Hawkeswell did not follow his natural inclinations to allow sobriety and love to remove all of the fun in his life. It was becoming a hell of a chore, though.
    “My women never lose interest before dawn, Hawkeswell. Even when we pay for pleasure, it is incumbent upon gentlemen to ensure their bed partners do not get bored. Lady Hawkeswell will be very grateful if you remember that our duty applies to the good women far more than the bad.”
    Hawkeswell slapped the paper down on his knee, piqued. The man really did adore his little wife, and not only for her considerable fortune. Being the old-fashioned, chivalrous sort, he did not take well any references to her that sounded in the least inappropriate.
    “If you are here, half-sober from the looks of it too, I assume there is a reason,” Hawkeswell