Kindred Hearts by Rowan Speedwell Read Free Book Online Page A

charm her a bit. She was so completely disinterested in their marriage that it shocked him, despite his familiarity with loveless society unions—and the bored wives that resulted. He’d expected that his own would end up that way as well, but somehow he felt that Charlotte would not even consider expending the energy to have an affair. Peculiar creature.
     
    Still, he was getting what he wanted: a wife who would not interfere with his activities and would provide him with the heir his father demanded.
     
    “Yes, of course,” he said with a feeling of relief. “I myself prefer Town living, but I do have a very nice hunting box in Leicestershire, not far from my family home—which of course we will inherit in due time. It’s called Lilac Cottage. The hunting box, not my family home—that’s Wareham.” He was vaguely aware that he was rattling. “And even had I not, the settlements include a property that will be yours outright upon the birth of your second child. So you will be able to be mistress of your own establishment, and not required to tolerate the company of the baron unless you wish it.”
     
    “I probably shall not,” she said. “I’ve met him, of course, but I don’t see the need to maintain any great acquaintance with him. Thank you. A small manor will be quite acceptable. And until then, a townhouse here, and your Lilac Cottage.”
     
    “Well, then. If you have no more questions?”
     
    “Just one.” Charlotte put her tea cup and saucer back on the table and folded her hands. “You said that the engenderment process requires a man to place his member inside a special place in a woman. I believe I am acquainted with the area you mean, from suffering the monthlies as all women do. However, do not men possess the same orifice?”
     
    “No. Our equipment is entirely external.” Really, this conversation was the strangest Tristan had ever experienced.
     
    “Hmm. Then when two men lie together, how do they manage?”
     
    A vision roared through Tristan’s head at her words: an accidental drunken stumbling into the wrong inn room late at night, the sight of broad shoulders, lean flanks, the arch of a back golden with sweat and firelight; a pair of equally muscular legs wrapped around that strong back and a man’s voice urging the other on with incomprehensible cries. The sight had never left Tristan since that drunken night three years before. Sometimes, just as he was ready to spend, the memory came again, blocking out the face of the woman beneath him. “I beg your pardon?!” Tristan’s face burned with unaccustomed embarrassment, and he wasn’t sure if it was at her words or at the memories they dragged up.
     
    “Well, they do, sometimes, you know.”
     
    “And how the dev— How would you know that?”
     
    She cocked her head and regarded him thoughtfully. “I do not think I should say,” she said finally. “It was a private conversation—much like this one.”
     
    “Well, you should not have had that conversation, and if I ever find out who it was I shall horsewhip him myself!” Tristan said furiously. “That sort of union is an abomination, not only illegal but immoral. Men who lie with men are deservedly hanged. It is appalling that anyone should have sullied the ears of a gently bred lady such as yourself!”
     
    “Oh. It is very bad, then?”
     
    “A terrible sin!”
     
    She nodded, not flustered in the least. “Interesting.” Then she smiled at him. “It’s very kind of you to be concerned about my well-being,” she said in the same sweet voice. “I’m very happy that you should be anxious about it. It bodes well for our acquaintance.”
     
    He sat a moment, speechless. Then the door opened and the companion peeped in. Lottie glanced up and smiled at her with the precise same smile she’d given him: sweet and warm, but ultimately dispassionate. “Come in, Ellen. We’re quite done here.” She stood and he followed suit, taking the hand she held