Kiss of a Traitor by Cat Lindler Read Free Book Online Page A

but her social polish always seemed to unravel as quickly and easily as a poorly knit sweater. Another of Marlene’s many criticisms. Willa would never hold a candle to her stepmother.
    “And betrothed to a major in the British Regulars, a cavalry officer and a baron,” Emma ran on unabated. “How thrilling. Why, you will be a baroness soon and doubtless take residence in a castle.”
    Willa turned her head to gape at her friend. “What a ridiculous notion, Emma. Most peers, barons in particular, do not reside in castles. Should Montford own such a structure, ‘tis bound to be a crumbling ruin on an isolated moor. Why else would a peer join the military when England is at war? He needed the coin. I assure you, the baron is as poor as a church mouse and too homely by half.”
    Emma paid scant attention to Willa’s disparagement of the baron. “I must admit I find it all so … so quixotic. A dashing cavalry officer, a nobleman, no less, has arrived to sweep you away on a white charger.”
    Willa released an unladylike snort and fanned herself more vigorously. “Your delusions result from having read too many romantical novels. I have no expectation or desire that anyone, much less Lord Montford, should sweep me away on anything. And before you grow overly enamored of the baron’s imagined charms, understand this: I have no intention of going through with this farce. The baron will be obliged to seek another wealthy wife to bear his noble brats.”
    Emma gasped. “But your father already posted the notices of your engagement and let it be known to all his acquaintances that you will wed. Surely you’ll not dare to defy him? The colonel arranged this ball to introduce you to your fiancé, and the formal betrothal will be announced tonight.” Before Willa could disabuse her friend of that absurd idea, a man entering the ballroom drew Emma’s eye. She sighed and fluttered her fan. A flush of color rose to her pale, powdered face.
    The black footman at the doorway announced the new arrival. “Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton.”
    “Do you not find him dreamy?” Emma said in a wistful tone. “Would he only direct his attentions my way.”
    Willa examined the tall, slim colonel. Like Major Digby, Banastre Tarleton was striking in a pretty way that seemed nearly obscene. Another prime example of that detestable breed—a dandified gentleman. He was whipcord lean. His regimental riding breeches were as snowy as the impeccable bag wig covering his blond hair. A forest-green coat, the badge of the Legion of Green Dragoons, brass buttons shiny, medals polished and arrayed across his chest, stretched tight and molded to his broad shoulders. Boots rising to the knee, so glossy they reflected the candle glow in a blinding glare, encased his muscular calves. His thin face and full lips held a familiar, condescending sneer.
    In addition to his status as a dandy, Willa deplored Tarleton for living up to his reputation as a rake and a cruel commander. He relished feminine attention as much as he embraced his nickname, “Butcher,” which he earned by allowing his legion to massacre a rebel troop under the white flag. She scorned him for his haughtiness and his infamous forays into the countryside to burn out planters who refused to swear allegiance to the Crown. She considered herself an ardent Tory. Even so, she had numerous friends amongst the planter families. Lately, some of her women acquaintances suffered from poor treatment by Tarleton’s troops. As much as Willa greatly desired for Britain to win the war of rebellion, she had no liking or tolerance for the inhumane tactics employed by Tarleton and his men. Only a man insecure in his own masculinity stooped to despoil a defenseless woman. Willa pointedly cut him when he looked in her direction, though she knew his gaze rested on Emma, not on her.
    “Mark my words,” Willa cautioned her friend. “You have no desire to be the object of Bloody Ban’s pursuit. He