Edith Layton by The Return of the Earl Read Free Book Online Page B

furniture made for kings and statues stolen from ancient temples. After a while she stopped exclaiming, because there was simply nothing left for her to say.
    “Now you see,” Sophie said, when they finally went outside again.
    “I do,” Julianne breathed.
    But there was more. Most of the outbuildings were worthy of anyone’s main residence, Julianne thought. At least, she’d have moved into the Orangerie, pitched a tent next to the little marble fishpond there, and lived happily ever after beneath the palms and citrus trees.
    It was as they were strolling toward the ruined tennis court that they saw him.
    He could be no other, Julianne thought. Not because she recognized him, but because of the way that Sophie stiffened, and Hammond paused.
    Even from afar, it was plain to see by the set of the gentleman’s dark head, the set of his shoulders, the way he moved with wary grace. He didn’t exactly walk as though he owned the place, but as if he was ready to be attacked for defending it. He was with another man, but he was the only one she noticed. He was slender, immaculate, distinctive, only a little taller than average, but unique and unforgettable.
    His face was remarkable. Even from afar the clarity of his complexion, the smoothness of his skin, the almost mannequin-like purity of those strict, even, masculine features, was striking. As they came closer, and he looked up to see them, his thin dark browsraised, and she caught the silver blue flash of his eyes.
    Their eyes met, and Julianne’s widened. She surprised a sudden look in his that made her think he recognized her. Those crystalline eyes lit with pleasure and rising joy…or was it the interest of a man for a woman he found attractive, as she’d been instantly drawn to him? But she knew she wasn’t that stunning, and that gave her hope that he remembered her. Because now as she stared at him she realized she couldn’t say she knew him, but she was sure she’d discovered someone she wanted to know.
    She couldn’t guess his reaction and couldn’t try. She was struggling too hard to conceal her instant response to him. And that response was awe, gladness, and a sense of coming home—followed by dawning sensations of danger, mistrust, and fear.
    She refused to be made a fool of. And yet, she was very much afraid this man, whoever he might be, was a man who could do it.

Chapter 4
    T he two parties of strollers came to a halt face-to-face on the path beside the ruined building that had once held a tennis court.
    “Sauvage,” Hammond said, acknowledging him with a curt bow.
    “Hammond,” the other man said, as he too bowed, “Miss Wiley.” But his eyes were on Julianne.
    “Allow me to introduce you,” Hammond said stiffly, “This is…
    “…the fellow who says he is Christian Sauvage,” Sophie interrupted, speaking to Julianne.
    “And this is Sophie’s cousin, come to visit,” Hammond said, when Sophie closed her lips tightly.
    “Delighted, Miss—?” Christian said, leaving the obvious question of her name hanging.
    Julianne opened her lips to answer and got a sharp pinch on the tender inside of her arm. Since she’d been walking arm in arm with Sophie, no one saw it, but it brought tears to Julianne’s eyes. By the time she recovered herself, Christian had gone on smoothly. “Yes. And here is Mr. Battle, an architect, all the wayfrom Manchester, where he’s restoring a castle. A tennis court isn’t such a grand commission, but since I could honestly tell him a king played here, he decided to take a look to see what can be done with it.”
    “We’re going to tear it down,” Sophie said.
    Christian nodded. “I see. I am not.”
    There was an awkward silence.
    “Obviously,” Christian said after a moment, “neither of us can do anything at the moment.” He seemed more amused than annoyed or disconcerted. “Which is just what I told Mr. Battle. But it’s good to get ready for when things are settled. I thought the old tennis