It Happened One Autumn by Lisa Kleypas Read Free Book Online

gesture that caused the boys to roar in scandalized delight.
    Unfortunately it was true. For all her accuracy in pitching, Lillian had never mastered the art of batting—a fact that Daisy, who was a superior batter, took great delight in pointing out. Picking up the bat, Lillian gripped the handle like a hammer with her left hand, and left the index finger of her right slightly open.
    Cocking the bat over her shoulder, she waited for the pitch, timed it with her narrowed gaze, and swung as hard as she was able. To her frustration, the ball spun off the top of the bat and went sailing over the catcher’s head.
    Before the boy could go in pursuit of it, the ball was tossed back to the pitcher by some unseen source.
    Lillian was perplexed as she saw Arthur’s face suddenly blanch to a shade of white that contrasted starkly with the fiery locks of his hair. Wondering what could have put such a look on his face, Lillian turned to glance behind her. The catcher seemed to have stopped breathing as he too beheld the visitor.
    For there, leaning casually against the paddock fence, was none other than Marcus, Lord Westcliff.

Chapter 3
    Cursing silently, Lillian gave Westcliff a sullen stare. He responded with a sardonic lift of one brow.
    Although he was clad in a tweed riding coat, his shirt was open at the throat, revealing the strong, sun-browned line of his neck. During their previous encounters, West-cliff had always been impeccably dressed and perfectly groomed. At the moment, however, his thick black hair was wind-tousled, and he was rather in need of a shave. Strangely, the sight of him like this sent a pleasant shiver through Lillian’s insides and imparted an unfamiliar weakness to her knees.
    Regardless of her dislike, Lillian had to acknowledge that Westcliff was an extremely attractive man. His features were too broad in some places, too sharp in others, but there was a rugged poetry in the structure of his face that made classical handsomeness seem utterly irrelevant. Few men possessed such deeply ingrained virility, a force of character that was too powerful to overlook. He was not only comfortable in his position of authority, he was obviously unable to function in any capacity other than as a leader. As a girl who had always been inclined to throw an egg in the face of authority, Lillian found Westcliff to be an unholy temptation. There had been few moments as satisfying as those when she had managed to annoy him beyond his ability to bear.
    Westcliff’s assessing gaze slid from her tumbled hair to the uncorseted lines of her figure, not missing the unbound shapes of her breasts. Wondering if he was going to give her a public dressing-down for daring to play rounders with a group of stable boys, Lillian returned his evaluating gaze with one of her own. She tried to look scornful, but that wasn’t easy when the sight of Westcliff’s lean, athletic body had brought another unnerving quiver to the pit of her stomach. Daisy had been right—it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find a younger man who could rival Westcliff’s virile strength.
    Still holding Lillian’s gaze, Westcliff pushed slowly away from the paddock fence and approached.
    Tensing, Lillian held her ground. She was tall for a woman, which made them nearly of a height, but West-cliff still had a good three inches on her, and he outweighed her by at least five stone. Her nerves tingled with awareness as she stared into his eyes, which were a shade of brown so intense that they appeared to be black.

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    His voice was deep, textured like gravel wrapped in velvet. “You should tuck your elbows in.”
    Having expected criticism, Lillian was caught off-guard. “What?”
    The earl’s thick lashes lowered slightly as he glanced down at the bat that was gripped in her right hand.
    “Tuck your elbows in. You’ll have more control over the bat if you decrease the arc of