His For The Taking by Harris Channing Read Free Book Online Page B

look into that familiar face. A face she longed to see in her unborn
children.
    She turned and attempted to regard
him with the most impassive expression she could considering the rapid rate of
her heartbeat. "Lord Denbigh, whatever are you doing in London?"
    "I had business to attend
to."
    He was every bit as handsome as she
dreamt every night since leaving Oak Park.
Dark blonde curls, those glorious brown orbs flecked with amber and gold. Why
couldn't he love her? Why? And why was it so difficult to stop loving him?
    "I see," she said,
setting the champagne glass down. "And was it successful?"
    His gaze never wavered, the
intensity in his expression quite unnerving. Quite unexpected. Quite out of his
character.
    "No. An abysmal failure."
    "Pity. For knowing you as I
do, you'll no doubt be bitterly angry."
    "Yes, but only because I
realized the problem too late." He finally looked away, his beautiful
mouth dipping into a frown. "If I had only seen what was right in front of
me all along."
    She squeezed her hand into a fist.
What was he doing to her? Trying to coax her back into his velvet snare? To
return her to a friendship that stifled? The memory of his face that last day
in the garden. The anger, the loathing, the ease with which broke her heart.
"That's too bad for you," she remarked, her pride surging upward.
"I have had the most wonderful time in London."
    His gaze jerked to her. "Have
you?"
    "Yes, actually, I have. Coming
here has opened many venues for me and I have made new friends and enjoyed
every minute."
    His eyes flashed with sorrow. Dear
Lord she hadn't expected that.
    "And what of Nesbitt?" he
asked taking a step forward, one that had her moving away from him. His sudden
aggression left her anxious.
    "He is a very good
friend…" her voice trailed off. What had changed in him? Gone was the
merriment she was so used to seeing in his countenance. Her heart slammed
against her ribs. Was that true sorrow? And the dark circles beneath his eyes,
and the way his usually well kempt hair now fell across his forehead, and his
suit…oh my! He was positively disheveled.
    "How good?"
    "That's none of your
business," she said, forcing herself to recall the pain he caused her.
Forcing herself to remember just how little she meant to him. My did it wound.
    At the sound of the orchestra
tuning up, he shrank back a bit and lifted his hand. "Dance with me dear,
Julianna."
    She stared dumbfound at his hand.
If she danced with him, she realized she would lose her battle. She could so easily
fall back into the contented rut she had been, for so long, happy to occupy.
"No," she replied, tears threatening to strangle her. "I
won't."
    "No?" he said, the pain
and surprise in his expression almost had her allowing him his dance.
    "No. I won’t have you ruining
my chances with Bennett." Dragging a breath into her lungs she stared into
his face. "Goodbye, Jonathan."
    "No, darling." He leaned
in, his sweet breath fanning her cheek and sending a wild chill across her
already overheated skin. "Never goodbye."
    And he smiled, the same wicked
smile she was so used to seeing in him. He was determined, but why? Why would
he care? What had changed?
    Frustration pinched her gut, hard.
He was driving her to distraction. Five, not five minutes ago she was contemplating
a life as Lady Nesbitt and now, she was staring at Jonathan's broad back as he
easily made his way through the crowd and out of her sight.
    She longed to chase after him, and
felt herself losing the well fought battle she had won.
    "Do not grab defeat from the
jaws of victory," Grandmother said, her voice as welcome as a summer
shower. Soft, warm and refreshing.
    "Whatever do you mean?"
Julianna replied, meeting Lady Chesterfield's compassionate, although direct
gaze.
    "He has done what I knew he
would. He has come to London to
reclaim you," she explained, her brow lifted. "Don't make it easy.
Make him work a little harder for you."
    "But you can’t mean to say he
loves