Linda Barlow by Fires of Destiny Read Free Book Online

warm sparkles inside her, the significance of which she dared not contemplate. "So am I. Alan had no call to say those things."
    "I'm glad he did. I must be slow-witted, since it hadn't occurred to me until now that I might inherit anything else from Will besides the claim to the barony."
    "It occurred to me," she admitted. "But you might have been dead for all we knew to the contrary. Or already married."
    "Instead here I am, alive and unwed and full of exotic tales of the lush and sensual East. Look at me, Alexandra."
    Reluctantly she raised her eyes to his. He was using her full name. When they'd been young, he had only called her Alexandra when he was angry with her.
    "For years you've expected to wed the next Baron of Whitcombe. I suppose it's natural for you to assume that I will carry through with the terms of Will's contract. And Alan's right, isn't he? You always did love me better than Will."
    "Yes, I loved you better than Will, but that was a long time ago." She sent him a smile to soften her words as she added, "If you imagine I've been pining for you these last ten years, you must have an excessively high opinion of your attractions."
    She held his gaze, and this time it was he who looked away. But she had recognized something in him which she had never seen before: a kind of pained resignation, as if he had realized that he must tread carefully, be courteous, but keep his distance, taking care not to injure an old friend who had grown old enough to make unwelcome demands on him. He sighed faintly, dragging a hand through his thick dark hair. Something about the gesture called up her earlier impression of the world-weariness from which he seemed to be suffering. What was wrong with him? Had he undergone some heartsickness, some tragedy? An unhappy love affair, perhaps?
    "Roger, good heavens, I was a child when last we saw each other. You were so much older, and yet you actually played with me. Naturally I adored you. You were a hero to me."
    "I'm no fit suitor for you," he said, as if she hadn't spoken. There was an odd, almost haunted look in his eyes. "Believe it. I'm no hero now. The things that happen to young women who get entangled with me are..." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "...highly unpleasant."
    This made her curious, yet only half her attention was on his words. She was surreptitiously looking at his body. There was no doubt about it: he was as comely a man as she had ever seen. With his dark, lively eyes, and his tough, yet graceful build, he was much more magnetic than either of his brothers. There was something about the sheer physicality of him, the way he moved and carried himself, even the way he breathed, that called out to her and drew her.
    Averting her gaze to stare into the low-burning fire, Alexandra examined her heart. Despite her denials, she suspected that it would be easy to fall in love with him. It was not just his looks, but his entire manner: he was mysterious and exciting, even dangerous. She was already feeling his pull deep in the most secret places of her body. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to slide her palms over his skin and feel his fingers stroking her in return.
    She could imagine herself longing for their fathers to arrange a marriage between them, and awaiting its formalization in a breathless haze of anticipation. And yet, because she possessed little in the way of feminine vanity, she could also imagine a lack of enthusiasm on Roger's part; an understandable desire, considering his history, for a woman more courtly and sophisticated than herself.
    No, she told herself firmly. The vague thoughts on the matter that had been running through her head all day would have to be dismissed forever. A union between her and Roger was impossible. She must accept it. Moreover, she must make sure he did not suspect that the idea held any appeal for her. Rather than worry about hurting the feelings of some silly country maiden, he would withdraw his