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

waist. She barely knew what to make of the creature. “It seems a dangerous way to make a living.”
    His roguish smile made her knees go weak. “Aye, but if I die tomorrow, I’ll go knowin‘ I had a hell of a lot of fun while I was here.”
    “You’re mad.”
    He laughed softly. His light-tricked gaze caressed her. “I had to have it, at least for a little while. You see, I enjoy beautiful things.” He stared at her, then leaned his head back on the door and gazed wistfully at the painting. When he spoke again, for a moment, it seemed his rough Cockney accent had gone missing. “I’ll sell it soon enough, I suppose, but this one… bewitched me. Sometimes I lie on my bed staring at it until I fall asleep. Then I dream I’m there—in Venice—the blue sky, the sun on my face, the lapping of the waves.” He sent her a half smile full of wry self-mockery. “ But artists lie. No place could be that beautiful.”
    “But it is.” She looked from it to him. “I have been there.”
    He stared at her, suddenly on his guard.
    “You don’t believe me?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “You should go.” She offered him a cautiously teasing smile. “You might find the influence of so much beauty elevating to your moral sense.”
    He snorted. “Got no time for holidays. There’s Cullen O’Dell to contend with.”
    “You’ll get him,” she said softly, then paused. “Are you badly hurt?”
    He shrugged. “I’ll live.”
    They stared at each other uncertainly. Magic quivered like a plucked lute string in the silence between them for that moment. The room seemed smaller, the candlelight more richly golden as it played over his wary face, sculpting its sleek planes and sharp contours. When he spoke again his tone was low, urgent.
    “Who are you? I must know.”
    “I might ask the same of you.”
    “I asked first.”
    “I’ve already told you—”
    “No. No ‘Jane Smith’ wears diamonds like that. I have seen you before.”
    Careful
, she warned herself, uneasily lifting her hand again to her diamond necklace. He might be illiterate, but he was sharp—clever enough to know quality when he saw it. She ventured a half-truth. “You seem familiar to me, as well, but I cannot think where or how we possibly could have met.”
    He eyed her as though weighing each one of her words. “Eddie says you were hiring a post chaise to Dover, that you meant to cross the Channel.”
    “That is true.”
    “Why?”
    “If it’s all the same to you, monsieur, I prefer to keep my own counsel.”
    He tilted his head slightly, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “I have a theory. Care to hear it?”
    She did not answer, but that did not stop him.
    “I say you’re eloping. To Paris.”
    “What?”
    “I hear it’s all the rage these days among you fine young ladies.”
    “Don’t be absurd! I am doing nothing of the kind.”
    “No? It’s the only explanation that makes sense. I don’t know who you are, but you’re no common sort. Aye, I’m not such an ignorant brute that I don’t know this much—respectable young misses don’t set foot outside the house without their servants to protect them. Back at the coaching inn, where was your chaperon, footman, maid?“
    She stood there awkwardly, no ready answer springing to mind.
    “I can only conclude that either you are not respectable, which is absurd—your manner is too fine—or your family hasn’t sanctioned your choice of paramours.”
    “How shockingly narrow-minded of you, Mr. Blade,” she replied with a toss of her chin. “Do you really think that all a lady’s actions can only revolve around love?”
    “Don’t know. You’re the only lady I’ve ever talked to.” He gave her a reckless, haphazard grin that made her heart flutter.
    She gazed at him, quite at a loss. “Well, I assure you, you are the first gang leader I have ever talked to.”
    “Good! Then we will forgive each other if we make mistakes,” he said with sudden, sardonic cheer, sauntering