Miranda's Dilemma by Natasha Blackthorne Read Free Book Online Page A

high and his eyes wide.
    “No,” Adrian replied, shaking his head. “There most certainly is not.”
    Froster gaped at him, dumbfounded.
    “Women like Miss Jones will not submit until their demands have been met in full.”
    “Their demands?” Froster sounded shaky. “You make their terms sound very dear indeed.”
    “They can be. Some of these high fliers’ demands are so great that they can never be fully satisfied.”
    “You mean that they will never give a man satisfaction?”
    Adrian smiled again at Froster’s little quip. Then, as the other man continued to gape at him with a look quite like a fish out of water, Adrian realized that the quip had been unintentional. He frowned slightly. “Froster, you have to realize what you’re dealing with here. These are business women. Time is money to them. They aren’t apt to waste their time or their favors.”
    Froster scowled. ”It was not so much my money as my time that I regret.
    I’ve taken her around to the theatre and opera, neither of which I much enjoy.”
    Adrian nodded and feigned a small gesture of sympathy.
    “I’ve invested so much of my money and time on her,” Froster said. “Of course I believed there would be implied carnal pleasures promised.”
    “Never believe that anything is ever implied when it comes to women,” Adrian said. Especially not with high fliers.”
    Froster’s frown deepened. “I was faithful to my wife.”
    “Were you?” Adrian said with mild surprise, though not really caring.
    “I never associated with women like Miss Jones before. They never quite seemed worth the bother. I married young, and my wife was a dutiful, pretty little thing. I was getting what I needed. Why spend money and time on a mistress when a wife will do nicely?”
    Adrian nodded. “A wise decision.”
    “Yet my wife…”
    “Yes,”Adrian said distractedly.
    “She would never do those things…”
    Adrian’s attention refocused on Froster and he raised his brows. “Things?”
    “Pleasures for a man.” Froster took an uneven breath, his cheeks flushing. “Exotic pleasures.”
    “You mean in the French style?” Adrian frowned. “Or the English vice?”
    Froster shook his head rapidly. “The former. French-style pleasures.”
    Froster’s tone made the last words sound like something akin to heaven.
    Anger roiled through Adrian’s gut.
    Hot, bilious, bitter anger.
    He choked it back. There was no reason to direct his anger towards Froster. Adrian was Froster’s ally in this battle against all dishonest, mercenary females. He took hold of his forgotten teacup and lifted it to his lips. The taste of the hot, unsweetened brew, just the way he preferred, washed down his gullet. But it couldn’t wash away the bitterness in his throat. Couldn’t wash back his anger.
    A primal, raw type of emotion poured into Adrian’s veins, the sensation of heat increasing with each pounding heartbeat.
    Jealousy?
    Possessiveness?
    Those words seemed far too commonplace for the type of unbridled urge stirring in his blood.
    He would do anything to stop Froster from being able to possess Miss Jones, not to protect the other man but because he couldn’t bear the thought of any other man laying claim to her boundless charms.
    The thought shocked him.
    He knew just how to ruin any chances that Froster had with the prickly, proud Miss Jones.
    He couldn’t stop himself.
    He sat the empty cup down into the saucer with a determined clang.
    Froster’s head jerked up once more. His eyes were once again wide, stupidly staring. “What?”
    “You must make her an ultimatum.”
    “An ultimatum?”
    “Yes, you must be firm with her from the very start or she will make your life a living hell.”
    Froster paled. “I don’t know.”
    Adrian chuckled softly. “She is not about to turn you away.”
    “She might.”
    “No.”
    “I wish I could be that certain. God, she is the most beautiful woman in Mayfair, probably in all of England. She could have any man