Loving Lord Ash by Sally Mackenzie Read Free Book Online Page A

cabbage-head knocked again.
    Damnation, was the fellow—or female—going to keep at it all night? Clearly there was only one way to deal with the fool. He lurched to his feet—and steadied himself on his chair as the room spun round.
    Perhaps he should have eaten something after all.
    Too late for that now. He lurched over to the door and flung it open.
    Good God!
    He felt his jaw drop, but he was powerless to stop it. His eyes were likely starting from their sockets as well.
    Jess stood in the corridor with her valise and her bearlike dog.
    “Good evening, Lord Ashton. May I come in?”
    Jess wanted to come into his bedchamber? His cock leapt with joy.
    He should never have drunk so much brandy. “No.”
    She looked momentarily nonplussed, but then her expression hardened as it had so many times when they were children and Percy or Jack had told her she couldn’t do something.
    “Nonsense. We have things to discuss.” She brushed past him.
    He should have blocked her way, but surprise delayed him and then her dog stepped on his foot.
    Pain paralyzed him. Black specks danced before his eyes; he couldn’t even find the breath to curse.
    “I suggest you close the door, my lord, unless you wish to treat the entire inn to our discussion.”
    Yes. Close the door. He pushed it shut and leaned his forehead against it, striving for control. He’d never done a woman injury, but Jess’s pert tone made him want to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze. As soon as he got over the pain of having his foot mashed, that is. Her dog must weigh over ten stone.
    He heard the soft rustle of cloth behind him as Jess removed her coat and bonnet, and his cock throbbed.
    No, he didn’t want to throttle her. He wanted to strip her out of her dress and stays and shift, lay her on that bed that was just a few steps away, and bury himself deep inside her.
    If only he’d opened the door eight years ago when they’d stopped at the inn on the way to the manor. He’d heard the latch rattle. It had taken all his control—well, and the bottle of brandy he’d consumed—to keep him sprawled in his chair. If he’d let her in, hauled her into his bed...
    No. She’d been with Percy. She might have had Percy’s get growing in her womb.
    She was his wife. He had the right to her body. She’d come here and bade him close the door so they could be alone. She was asking him to take her.
    He pressed his forehead harder against the door. No, she wasn’t. He didn’t know why she was here, but it wasn’t for that. And even if it were for that, he couldn’t give in to his urges. Just like the last time they were in an inn together, she might be carrying another man’s child.
    “Are you ever going to come away from the door?”
    Control. He needed control. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
    “I do not see the need for discussion, madam.” He turned to face her. Zeus, why the hell did she have to be so beautiful? “There is nothing to say.”
    He’d always loved how her dark hair contrasted with her pale skin and how her eyebrows tilted up at the ends. And she had such lovely cheekbones and a straight nose that was perhaps too strong for beauty but which fit her face perfectly....
    Blast it, she was a Siren. He’d caught her twice in the arms of a naked man, and yet he still wanted her.
    Her jaw flexed. “There is much to say.” She glanced down to pat her dog and then met his eyes again. “You arrived at a very awkward moment.”
    God give him strength. “At least this time your legs weren’t spread for the fellow. I count myself fortunate to have missed that sight.”
    He thought she flushed, though it was hard to know for certain in the flickering candlelight.
    “Roger is a friend. He poses for me when I wish to paint the male form.”
    Ah, yes. Painting the male form, just as she’d been supposedly painting Percy. “He’s your friend, is he? Your very special friend, no doubt.”
    Her dog did not care for his