Lyon's Bride: The Chattan Curse by Cathy Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page B

. . .”
    Harry’s voice trailed off as he realized Neal wasn’t alone. His gaze sharpened on Thea as if he sensed he should know who she was and couldn’t quite place her.
    The women around Harry were all smiling. The ones Neal recognized were married. Harry preferred married women. He said there were fewer complications.
    Of course, Harry liked all women. He wasn’t choosy. It was the difference between the two men. Neal fought the curse by being circumspect. Harry fought it by enjoying every pair of legs in skirts who crossed his path. In that way, he claimed, he would not and could not form a lasting attachment to any one of them.
    “Who is this?” Harry asked, his tone taking on interest as he walked right up to Thea. Both Jonny and Christopher drew in their breath at the realization that one of their heroes was right there in front of them.
    A bit annoyed, Neal said, “Mrs. Martin, this is my brother, Colonel Harry Chattan.”
    “Colonel,” she said.
    “Mrs. Martin?” one of Harry’s companions said. “You seem so familiar. Have we met before? I am Lady Amberton.” She was in her early forties but still had her looks. They said her husband turned a blind eye to her dalliances, and it was obvious that Harry had been plying her and her three companions with good wine. Their cheeks were rosy from it, and their manners more easy and forward.
    Harry seemed fine. Of course, Harry could drink a cask of wine and still look unaffected. Many times Neal wished Harry did not have his prodigious predilection for ales, wines and spirits. Or a taste for other, more debilitating vices as well.
    Of course there were other things Neal would change about his brother. Harry could be elegantly surly and brutally selfish when he had a mind to be. He was quick-witted, arrogant, and Neal thought him far more intelligent than himself. There were times they rubbed along well, and times they rubbed each other raw.
    “I don’t believe so,” Thea answered. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
    “We have met,” Lady Amberton persisted. “Your name is so familiar.”
    Thea smiled and kept moving toward the dining room while reaching down to bring her sons with her. Neal was happy to go with her. He murmured polite good-byes and lengthened his stride to catch up to Thea.
    He could feel Harry staring after him.
    “Are Lady Amberton and all those ladies with your brother?” Thea asked as the majordomo escorted them to Neal’s customary table. “She is known to be a tigress.”
    “Then Harry shall enjoy her.”
    He didn’t have to explain more because Thea’s attention shifted to settling her sons and ensuring they understood having polite manners. “Jonathan, you take this seat on my right. Christopher, sit here on my left. Napkins in laps.”
    Neal took the liberty of ordering for all of them. “Tonight’s poulet, ” he told the majordomo, who would handle the matter for him. He always did.
    But Thea had not forgotten the thread of the conversation. “And what of yourself, my lord? Do you prefer tigresses?”
    His gaze met hers. There was challenge in her voice, a hardness, as if she was waiting for him to disappoint her, as if she expected him to. Was this cynicism a result of her marriage? “I am more circumspect,” he said. “Harry accuses me of being too rigid, but I believe I’m the wiser—”
    Before he could finish, a new member joined their party.
    “I know who she is,” Harry declared as if Neal had been hiding Thea’s identity. He nabbed a chair from another table, mumbling a lame apology to the table’s occupants and pulling it up to sit at Neal’s. He crossed both his arms, stretching his long legs out as was his custom.
    “She’s a matchmaker .” Harry said the last word as if it left a bad taste. “Don’t do this, Neal. Let it end with us. Let us finish it.”
    Neal understood exactly what his brother was suggesting. And then he glanced at Jonathan, whose wide eyes