One Night of Sin by Gaelen Foley Read Free Book Online Page B

a distant sound snagged at her attention.
    Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop.
    Her eyes widened; she felt her blood run cold.
Oh, no.
Ignoring Lord Alec entirely for the moment, she mustered her courage and forced herself to look, peering into the darkness in the direction of the sound.
    By the dim illumination of the wrought-iron lampposts, she spotted two of the riders about a block away, but coming closer steadily, as undeterred by the blowing rain as mechanical automata. Even from a distance, she recognized the distinctive shape of their brimmed helmets and the familiar motion of their heads turning as they glanced from side to side, scanning each intersection they passed.
    A wave of dread washed over her.
Too late.
Running now would only draw their attention.
    “Becky? God’s teeth, I’ve never had this much trouble persuading a lass in my life—”
    “I’m persuaded!” As she jerked her frightened gaze back to his chiseled face, it occurred to her all of a sudden that he might be her only hope of evading capture.
    Magnificent specimen that he was, Lord Alec had lots of lovely muscles, to be sure; he was tall and walked with a strut, she had noticed. But she did not want him to try to fight the Cossacks—God, no. She already felt responsible for one man’s death back in Yorkshire.
    Now, as she looked up at him, the cocksure glint in his dark blue eyes made her worry he might think that he could take the Cossacks on. But Mikhail had told her how his soldiers were plucked from their mothers’ bosoms as children to be molded into warriors, trained to mete out death. If, when they came to seize her, her lusty Knight tried to interfere or challenged them out of some misguided sense of aristocratic chivalry, Becky had no doubt he would be promptly slaughtered.
    She could not bear it. He was the only person who had been nice to her—in a fashion—since her arrival in London. No, she would not get this man killed, too. She did not want him involved at all. But as the Cossacks passed the third lamppost, her doom was in sight. She turned back warily to her companion. She did not want Lord Alec challenging those brutes, but perhaps there was a way that he could hide her.
    After all, the Cossacks were looking for a girl alone. Everyone in this town seemed to think she was a hussy, anyway. . . .
    “You’ve persuaded me,” she whispered again.
    “Thank God,” he muttered. “For a minute, I thought I was losing my touch.”
    What a time for all his jesting! As he reached to caress her face, Becky cautiously captured his hand. A smoldering glow leapt to life at once in his cobalt eyes. She managed to smile at him, though uncertainly, and linked her fingers through his, drawing him with her into the shadows. She held his gaze with a virginal, come-hither stare.
    Surprise flickered in the depths of his eyes at her initiating this move, but he came willingly enough. He looked intrigued. “You’re full of surprises, do you know that?”
    You have no idea.
“Am I?”
    “Mm.” With long, strolling paces, he allowed her to lead him back into the darkest region beneath the awning, into the recessed doorway of the shop, tucked between a pair of bow windows.
    Her heart thudding, she backed against the locked, green-painted shop door, and then boldly reached out and stroked him, her fingertips carefully exploring his chest. “It’s kind of you to worry for my safety.”
    “Well, Becky dear, I must confess, my motives are not entirely pure.” He pressed closer in a way that would have upset her ten minutes ago, but now she welcomed the nearness of his big strong body, shielding her from view of the street.
    She lifted her chin, meeting his hungry stare. Nervously, she wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue. He watched with a look of absorption.
    “Would you like to kiss me, Lord Alec?” she asked in a breathy voice.
    “Very much,” he answered huskily. “Plain old ‘Alec’ will do, love. Told you, remember? Mere