Kathryn Smith by In The Night Read Free Book Online

with no chance of interruption.
    “I think your sister wanted to dance with me,” he remarked, placing his hand on the small of her back. How delicate she was.
    Her slender hand curled around his. “She is eighteen and you snubbed her. She regards you as a challenge that must be conquered.”
    “How do you regard me?” He would gladly be conquered by Moira.
    Her chin lifted. “I have not yet decided.”
    He chuckled at her candor as he guided her through a gentle turn. “You are a hard woman, Lady Aubourn.”
    She stiffened in his arms. “I am sorry. I have offended you again.”
    “Relax.” He splayed his fingers against her gown, softly massaging the rigid flesh beneath. “You have not come anywhere near offending me, I assure you.”
    “But I thought—”
    “Ahh, but you think too much.” He grinned at her.
    She smiled then, an unexpected flash of straight white teeth. Wynthrope’s heart gave a mighty thump at the sight of it. No doubt that knocked some of the dust off.
    “I have made a decision, Mr. Ryland.”
    This sounded interesting. He could feel the tension easing out of her as he guided her through another turn. She wasn’t a bad dancer at all when she relaxed. “About what, my lady?”
    Her gaze was level but incredibly shy and uncertain. “I believe I have a mind to make your better acquaintance as well.”
    A thrill shot from the middle of Wynthrope’s chest straight to his groin. The black queen had made her first move. Now it was his turn. He had a kiss to collect.
    But not tonight. Tonight he would enjoy this small victory, and allow Moira to think she was in control of their game. She might have started the play, but he intended to win.
    He always won.
     
    Wynthrope arrived at his apartments several hours later to find a lamp burning in the parlor. His valet must have forgotten to snuff it out. It wasn’t until he was well into the room that he noticed he wasn’t alone. There was someone else in the room.
    Someone who looked very much like a man he’d once thought of as a father. A man who’d lied to him and betrayed him right to the bone. A man whose very presence was like a shard of ice in Wynthrope’s chest.
    It couldn’t be him. God, don’t let it be him.
    “Hello, boyo.”

Chapter 3
    T hose two words cracked the façade of composure Wynthrope tried hard to always project. This was a nightmare—his worst nightmare—coming true.
    He launched across the room to where his uninvited guest lounged. Seizing the older man by the lapels, he hauled him to his feet with a snarl, his heart hammering wildly in his chest, blood thrumming in his veins. Their faces were mere inches apart and yet his “guest” did not flinch. At one time he had respected this fearlessness, now he despised it. He wanted to pound it off his face until there was nothing left.
    “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
    Smiling easily, William Daniels pushed at the hands creasing his coat. “Easy, boyo. Is this any way to treat an old friend?”
    “You were never my friend.” What the bastard was, was lucky—lucky Wynthrope had some control over himself and didn’t just kill him.
    Some of the leprechaun charm faded from the older man’s craggy features. “Let me go, boy. I’ve a proposition for you.”
    Strangely enough, Wynthrope did as he was bid. Releasing Daniels’s coat, he dropped the Irishman back into the winged chair. He should have killed him when the thought occurred to him.
    “You have five minutes to explain yourself before I throw you out.” Why was he even giving the bastard a chance to talk? Had he not learned the hard way that William Daniels was not to be trusted? The longer he spent in the Irishman’s company, the worse it would go for him.
    Daniels watched him with an expression that bordered on amused. He straightened his coat haphazardly, seemingly unconcerned with Wynthrope and his rage.
    The son of a bitch always had been too cocksure by half. To think that one time