Lady Lissa's Liaison by Lindsay Randall Read Free Book Online

ran one hand through the shagged lengths of his hair; gracious, but his hands intrigued her. Lissa remembered again how he'd held his angling pole in that strong grip of his—remembered, too, the feel of his warmth and strength as he'd led her over the downed log. Of a sudden, she wantonly imagined those hands touching other parts of her body, perhaps commanding her as perfectly as he did his angling rod....
    The path her thoughts were taking was most unladylike, Lissa knew, but she couldn't help herself. Nor could she stop. She was very much affected by the Heartless Lord Wylde. Purely physical, these feelings were, and they had no place in her ultimate plan. How ridiculous that she, the daughter of a man who had taught her to be ruled and moved by the nature surrounding her and nothing else, should respond to Wylde in such a way!
    But then again, her mind reasoned, the sixth Earl of Wylde was a creation of nature, just as surely as were the insects she loved to sketch, as the air that moved around them was, and as was the Dove River she loved so much. That she should be moved by the man, by his essence, was not so startling thought of in these terms, not really.
    Even so, Lissa was glad when he took a step away. She drew in a breath of air, hoping to still her roiling insides.
    "I shall be honest with you, Lady Lissa of Clivedon Manor," he was saying now as he turned away from her. "The last time I ever studied the art of fly angling was at the knee of my father while standing in his study in Grosvenor Square. I was all but ten and two then, and thought if I mastered a cast, I could catch a trout." He turned back toward her suddenly, adding, "But having lived the past many weeks here in Derbyshire—and having spent all of those mornings alongside the river—I've come to realize that casting a line isn't the whole of the matter by far."
    "Indeed not, my lord," Lissa agreed, happy enough to glance back down at the hooks and feathers. Anything but look at him, she thought. "A perfect cast will intrigue a trout, but an even more perfect fly will be what hooks the fish."
    "So I've discovered."
    Lissa felt his gaze on her. She did not dare look up, did not dare to let him see how fully his presence affected her. She focused on the table and the assortment of things upon it. "You've all you need here, my lord. It should not take long before you create the perfect fly."
    "Before we create the perfect fly, you mean."
    Lissa finally looked up at his astoundingly handsome face. Their gazes met and held, and for a single, startling second it felt as though she had known this man since the beginning of time. Lissa knew then she should have heeded her maid's warning and stayed far away from the sixth Earl of Wylde.
    "I—I can teach you what is needed for a certain fly, sir, but tying that fly is another matter entirely. It takes practice... and—and practice takes time."
    "I have time," he assured her.
    "But not I. The locket—"
    "Is being eaten away as we speak."
    Lissa frowned. "Twenty-four hours—you are certain that is the amount of time before the inner digestive juices of a trout will begin to eat away at the locket?"
    "No, not entirely certain. It could be sooner, or later. It depends."
    "It depends on what, my lord?"
    "A number of things. What the locket is fashioned of, for one, and on the trout, I s'pose—what it ate before and after consuming the locket."
    "But you said yourself the trout most likely would not feed after having taken in the locket," Lissa said, her tone a bit desperate.
    "It is doubtful since its belly would feel full, but I could be wrong."
    "And are you ever, my lord?"
    "Am I ever what? Wrong?"
    Lissa nodded.
    "Not usually," he assured her. After a moment of thought, he added, "Only once, actually—and that matter had nothing to do with a trout." With that, his mood turned alarmingly dark. He nodded once toward the workbench. "I suggest we get started."
    Though Lissa desired to question him further