Fantasy 03 - Double Fantasy by Cheryl Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

moral constitution and, given the slightest encouragement, she would do any reprehensible thing. She'd once been a virtual cauldron of smoldering lust, and she continually battled the scurrilous impulses. Yet a man had merely smiled at her again, and she was eager to leap to iniquity.
    What was wrong with her? Had she no honor? No strength of will?
    "What would it be worth to you," he asked, "to have Jamie's oath that you could remain at Gladstone?"
    "Why? Could you get him to promise and mean it?"
    "If I wanted to. If the price was right."
    "That's the most sordid proposition any man's ever made to me."
    "It was horrid, wasn't it?"
    "I'm going to pretend that you had too much brandy after supper."
    "It's more likely that I'm too exhausted to be circumspect." He scrutinized her, his interested gaze roving down her torso. "I notice that I didn't drive you into a maidenly swoon."
    "I'm a bit beyond swooning."
    "I'm glad to hear it. I can't abide a timid woman."
    He shifted, narrowing the distance between them as she hadn't dared. She could feel his heat, could smell his skin.
    "Are you ever lonely, Miss Carstairs?" "No," she lied.
    "Well, I'm lonely—every minute of every day. And I'll be here for weeks, maybe months."
    It was the very worst thing he could have said to her. She rippled with anticipation, already conjuring how they could arrange a few trysts.
    "Good night, Mr. Merrick."
    "Call me Jack."
    He leaned in and kissed her, and at the feel of him, so warm and solid and masculine, her knees buckled. Instantly, he caught her and dragged her to him, her body wedged between his thighs, a hand fisted in her hair.
    He was hard for her, his phallus igniting a flash fire of wanton desire she'd never been able to control. For a mad, wild moment, she joined in the fray, kissing him back with all the passion an unloved, untended spinster could exhibit.
    She pulled and scratched and clawed. But as he reached for her breast, as he fondled the soft mound, she yanked away with a moan of anguish.
    "I can't do this," she wailed. "I can't. Not again. Not ever again."
    She whirled away and hurried into the house.
     
    Jamie was awakened by the outer door to his suite being opened. As a female tiptoed toward him, he suffered a brief glimmer of hope that it might be Anne.
    When he'd agreed to wed her, he'd scarcely considered what sort of person she'd be. He didn't plan to tarry at Gladstone, so the wife he'd leave behind had mattered very little. It could have been Anne or anyone.
    But now that he'd met her, he was intrigued, thinking about her when he oughtn't, and stupidly anxious for her to consent of her own accord.
    He knew her stride, though, and it wasn't her sneaking in. He'd left a candle burning, so he could see perfectly well that it was Ophelia.
    Her fabulous blond hair was down and brushed out, the golden locks hanging to her waist. She was dressed in a slinky red negligee that outlined every lush curve and valley, and she'd reddened her lips to match her garment. The cosmetic enhancement made her look like a whore, but a very, very sexy one.
    "Hello, Ophelia."
    He scooted to a sitting position, propping the pillows against the massive headboard. Her interest piqued as she saw his bare chest and realized he'd be naked under the covers.
    "Hello, Jamie," she said in a throaty, lusty way. "You don't mind if I call you Jamie, do you?"
    "Not at all."
    He remembered how cozy she was with Percy. He didn't trust Percy, and he trusted her even less. Had she come to shoot him? To stab him? To poison him?
    "It's rather late, Ophelia. What can I do for you?"
    "I've been in my room, trying to answer that very same question. What can you do for me?"
    She sauntered over, her intentions clear, and he struggled to unravel her scheme. She and Percy were thirty years old, as Jamie was himself. By all accounts, she was a spinster who'd never had a single suitor, but from how she was advancing on him, she was no virgin.
    How many lovers had she