My Fair Mistress by Tracy Anne Warren Read Free Book Online Page B

the protection of the garment. As if she still harbored doubts about her presence here with him in this house.
    It was brave of her to come, he admitted. Brave and bold. And if he were any sort of gentleman he’d leave her wrapped up in her cloak, go to the coaching house for his carriage, then take her home. But he’d long ago given up any notion of being a true gentleman since it was the one thing he would never be.
    Slowly, she reached up and pushed back her hood. Underneath she wore a long-brimmed bonnet with a dark lacy half veil that covered her eyes.
    He couldn’t help but smile. “I see you took every precaution to conceal your identity.”
    “I must,” she replied, deadly serious. “No one can ever suspect.”
    “No one will,” he assured, equally serious. “This neighborhood is very quiet. There are few residents, and those there are tend to keep to themselves. It’s why I chose the place, for its pleasant, somewhat rural location—not easy to find in a bustling metropolis like London.”
    The house, just south of Queens Square, was perfect. An attractive, two-story brick Georgian, it blended easily into its surroundings. The house and drive were flanked on both sides by rows of mature evergreen boxwoods and towering elm trees, their branches now bared of leaves. A high brick wall ringed the front of the two-acre property, providing a deep sense of privacy and seclusion.
    He’d acquired the house only a month ago from the Marquis of Durbenham, who’d used it for exclusive parties, the kind of entertainments about which a man would rather his wife know nothing. But after getting caught en flagrante by said wife, the marquis had put the property up for sale, remarking that the old harridan had tainted the place with her invective and quite ruined his fun. Rafe could well imagine.
    “Now,” he continued, stepping closer. “Let me assist you with your outer garments.”
    She moved back. “I-I’ll do it, thank you.”
    Hands visibly trembling, she tugged loose the bow of navy grosgrain ribbon tied beneath her chin, then pulled off her hat. Her hair gleamed, dark and sleek as sable, the clean scent of French-milled soap drifting faintly in the air. He took her bonnet and set it on a nearby marble-topped foyer table.
    When he turned back, she was fumbling with the clasp on her mantle and doing a poor job of it. Crossing to her, he covered her small hands with his own much larger ones and gently stilled her movements. “Please, allow me.”
    After a moment, she relented, her hands falling to her sides, her eyes averted.
    Smoothly, efficiently, he unfastened the small, filigreed gold and pearl clasp at her throat but made no move to slide the garment from her shoulders. Drawing a finger over her satiny cheek, he watched her eyelids fall shut and her lips tremble. Was she truly prepared to take this scheme through to its conclusion? Would she be grateful, even relieved, if he offered her one last opportunity to escape?
    He sighed. “Are you certain this is what you want? It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.”
    Her eyes sprang open and her jawline firmed. “Please don’t toy with me. I’ve already told my brother the loan is paid. I can’t go back to him now and say I’ve lied. This…bargain between us is the only way.” She paused, a sudden glimmer of hope dawning in her expression. “Unless you’d be willing to forgive the debt.”
    Rafe blinked at the suggestion.
    Forgive the debt? Impossible.
    Even if he was magnanimous enough to contemplate such an action, he wasn’t that much of a fool. After all, he hadn’t earned the nickname “The Dragon” by letting people cozen him out of money—not even pretty little widows with eyes as rich and dark as fine, melted chocolate, and lips that beckoned with the sweet perfection of a newly blossomed rose. If he were inclined to act the gallant, he supposed he could allow her to walk out the door with no more than a few kisses and a