More Than You Know by Jo Goodman Read Free Book Online

children all suffered with the disease that kept the blood from clotting and made even a bruise potentially life-threatening. “That's why he received his knighthood,” Rand said slowly, thinking back. “He wasn't Sir Griffin when I first encountered him at Oxford."
    "The honor was conferred on him in ‘63. Her majesty was very grateful."
    "Grateful to the duke as well, I'd imagine.” When Claire frowned, he added, “For his financial support of the research."
    "Oh, yes. He's a favorite with her.” At the nape of her neck, just below the place where her hair was swept up into its smooth coil, Claire felt a band of heat touch her. She bent her head forward a fraction, exposing more of her skin to this hint of the sun's warmth. She could not know it, but the man watching her found the gesture sensual and vaguely erotic. “The sun's come out,” she said. The lift of the corners of her mouth was so slight that it could not properly be called a smile, yet Rand thought she was fairly thrumming with pleasure.
    "Yes, it has,” he said.
    Claire lifted her face and the band of sunlight slipped to her collar. She continued as if there had been no sybaritic pleasures to distract her. “I accompanied my father on both his voyages to Polynesia. I was very young yet when he was exploring Tahiti and the Cook Islands, but I have many vivid memories of that time. I had no hesitation about going back with him.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I have no hesitation now."
    "No,” Rand said without inflection. “Apparently the hesitation is all on my part."
    "Make no mistake, Captain Hamilton, if it isn't you, it will be someone. I've already explained why it should be you. My father is not of the revered stature of Dr. Livingston, and Solonesia is not the Dark Continent, but if you should be the one to find him alive, you can be certain fame and a considerable fortune would follow."
    "Like Stanley? Rather a difficult task, I should think, since you've already made it clear that Sir Griffin is probably dead. I don't suppose I can expect fame or fortune for locating your bastard brother."
    Claire sucked in her breath. “You have no—"
    "No right? Perhaps not, but that doesn't make me wrong. You said his name was Tipu. That suggests to me that he has an islander mother. If he was on Solonesia when you left, then he was probably born there, and I make his age to be no more than a few months past six. I don't suppose he has Stickle for his godfather."
    This time Claire did stand. Anger made it difficult to think clearly and that disoriented her. She had learned it was possible to be blind and still be blinded by rage.
    "I've remained at a six o'clock position,” Rand said easily. “The door is at nine. Your reticule is on the sofa. Do you want it?"
    "Yes."
    "Then you'll have to come here to get it, won't you?"
    Claire's lips changed their shape around the word bastard. She took a step forward and was brought up short by Rand's light laughter.
    "Careful, Miss Bancroft. That word is apparently the one that got me into trouble with you. What would be served by both of us being in a snit?"
    Claire walked forward again, less confidently this time, afraid that Rand would place himself squarely in her path. She felt the edge of the sofa, sensed his nearness, and moved around. She forgot about the side table and bumped it hard with her leg. She bit her lip rather than cry out, and when she tasted blood on the inside of her mouth she had the satisfaction of knowing that at least she'd kept it from him.
    Her bag was on the cushion exactly where she'd left it. Claire held it in both hands and walked toward the door at the nine o'clock position.
    "I'm going to touch you."
    His voice was very near her ear. She'd had no sense of how he came to be so close. She hadn't heard him move from his place at the back of the couch. Claire stopped so suddenly that inside her chest it was as if her heart was still moving forward. There was a hard,