Dove's Way by Linda Francis Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

being set up.
    He could just imagine Finnea firing off a note with some trumped-up excuse to see him. Then his mother had insisted he personally return the bracelet to her. Of course Emmaline had said the Winslets and not specifically Finnea, but Matthew was wise to his mother. First she had demanded he attend the party; now she insisted he return the bracelet after receiving a note.
    Finnea wanted to see him, and his mother was making it happen.
    Well, he had news for both of them. He had not been amused when Finnea walked into his parents’ house last night and allowed herself to be introduced to him without so much as a blink of recognition. And now this blasted bracelet. He was not a man to play coy games, as Finnea Winslet was about to learn.
    Marry Finnea.
    A flash of unexpected desire swept through him. He cursed into the wind and wrote the desire up to rage. He would never remarry. He would make that clear to his mother and to Finnea Winslet.
     
    Matthew entered the Winslet home. The house was new by Boston standards, no more than thirty to forty years old. It was ostentatious as well. Imported marble floors in the central hall, receiving rooms on either side with plush upholstered furniture and extravagantly draped windows. Fluted door casings and crenellated, gold-gilt crown moldings. A marble staircase ascending to the upper floors, and a lavish crystal chandelier to highlight it all.
    After seeing Finnea last night, Matthew had learned that her mother and brother lived off the income of Winslet Iron Works, as did Finnea. The company was a prosperous family concern with shares controlled equally by Nester and a board of directors in trust for Finnea.
    But it wasn’t income or trusts that he was thinking of when he entered. It was the smell. A curiously pervasive odor that filled the house that he couldn’t quite name. Like the outdoors, or a garden. Or cooking, perhaps, with ingredients not normally used in Boston.
    Matthew was shown into the east receiving room on the right. But before the butler had a chance to announce him, Finnea dashed into the room.
    As always, she had the infuriating ability to take his breath away. She was all dazzle and shimmer, movement and light. She was dressed in a perfectly proper gown, but even the most expensive silks couldn’t quite hide the wildness about her.
    He forgot about his aching shoulder. He forgot about his frustration as he felt an insane desire to dip his head to her lips and taste her.
    But he stopped himself short. He was not interested in Finnea Winslet.
    He cocked a brow and studied her. “I see you were expecting me,” he drawled insolently.
    His words brought her up short, and she whirled to face him, her eyes widening as if she were surprised.
    “A nice touch, I have to admit,” he stated. “You look quite fetching standing there acting as though you have no idea why I’m here.”
    “Why are you here?”
    His eyes narrowed with impatience. “Enough of your games, Miss Winslet. I’m here because you sent word.”
    “I did?”
    A fissure of doubt crept in, but his jaw tightened against it. “Stop playacting. I’ve brought your bracelet. Now, why did you really want to see me?”
    The sudden sound of heels clicking on marble echoed in the high-ceilinged foyer.
    “Who are you talking to, Finnea?”
    Leticia’s voice echoed much like her heels as she came to the receiving room. Nester and Hannah followed in her wake.
    “Mr. Hawthorne,” Leticia called out in an excited rush. “Your mother is so kind to respond to my note so quickly. Did she find the bracelet?”
    Matthew watched Finnea, who stood to the side, an unrelenting glimmer suddenly sparking in her eyes, one graceful brow raised in challenge.
    He cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, Mrs. Winslet, she did.” He extended the jewelry in a stiff, clipped movement that had little to do with pain and everything to do with the fact that he didn’t like the smug look on Finnea’s face.
    “Where