Lady of Desire by Gaelen Foley Read Free Book Online Page A

before this high-bred demoiselle of luxurious elegance, refinement, and grace. As she looked around in wonder at his rough-and-tumble world, he stole the chance to study her. Her beauty was at once wild and delicate. As dainty as sculpted porcelain, her face expressed a frank, lively mind and a mercurial nature as full of caprice as the English weather—clouds, sun, clouds, sun, all in one day. The sort of woman who would play the game on her terms or not at all, he thought. But as he watched her, what he was most keenly aware of was her innocence. Though her dark, sultry, almond-shaped eyes hinted at an untapped wantonness, he could feel the youthful freshness of her spirit when he stood close to her, a tangible force as golden as her hair. It simultaneously made him want to run like the devil and to bare his soul.
    Aye, this was a woman, he realized down deep in his bones, who could make a man crawl through hell on his hands and knees.
Bloody dangerous
. Without further ado, he swung the door open and nodded toward his chamber. “After you, Miss Smith.”
    “But…” She turned to him, her voice trailing off in dismay at the prospect of going into his room alone with him.
    A wicked smile crept over his lips. “Don’t disappoint me, my dear,” he murmured, his eyes agleam with a very personal sort of challenge. “Surely you’re not going to start acting sensibly now?”

CHAPTER THREE
    Jacinda stiffened at Blade’s silken taunting, but could hardly take offense at his mild accusation, for he had heard the whole story from the boy’s own lips and thus knew she had been duped by a mere street urchin. Lifting her chin with what remained of her pride, she gave him a severe look that warned him— probably in vain—not to try anything improper, then bravely strode ahead of him into his private sanctuary. He watched her pass with a look of amusement.
    A swift glance around revealed walls washed in the same drab hue as the hallway, and a wood-planked floor painted dark brown. There was a threadbare braided cottage rug thrown down before the brick hearth, where charcoal embers gleamed beneath the small iron kettle. Against the wall, his low cot had been turned into a makeshift tent-bed, draped with long swathes of fabric that she realized on closer inspection were fine cashmere scarves, undoubtedly stolen. They appeared of finest quality, with swirling designs of red, orange, and gold. She smiled to herself, remembering the gaudy purple waistcoat and red carnation he had been wearing the day he had come to Knight House. Other than a taste for loud colors, he appeared to live very simply. Tidiness, however, was not among his virtues, she observed as a mouse went scampering along the seam of the wall and vanished into its hole. The furniture was dusty and looked decidedly battered by the light of the candles burning in colored glass jars here and there around the room. There was a wardrobe, an abused-looking secretaire with a simple wooden chair, and a chest of drawers— upon which sat a glorious Canaletto in a gilded frame.
    Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the masterpiece: the gondolas on the Grand Canal, the Venetian palaces in rich tones of red and gold. Good Lord, she recognized the painting from Lady Sudeby’s drawing room! She turned to her host in astonishment as the full reality of his occupation sank in. Used goods, indeed!
    Oblivious to her racing thoughts, Blade followed her into his room, locked the door, then turned and leaned against it, folding his arms slowly across his chest.
    Still reeling at the audacity of his theft, she pointed in bewilderment. “That painting—?”
    A ghost of something that might have been guilt flickered in his untrusting eyes. He had fascinating eyes—pale, sea-green irises rimmed by a dark band of cool, deep chalcedony. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
    “How did you get that?” she demanded.
    “How do you think?”
    She stared at him, resting her hands on her