Ransom Redeemed by Jayne Fresina Read Free Book Online

once."
    Immediately his gaze hardened, but didn't lose its heat.
    "Your mode of dress is somewhat similar to his too," she added. "The monkey's that is— not Uncle Hugo's."
    Quizzical lines deepened across his brow, and he slowly lifted his hand to rasp fingers across the stubble of his jaw. He seemed to be sniffing her out, weighing the danger. His eyelids lowered slyly, but she could still make out the devilish gleam of a beast accustomed to getting his own way— of never being corralled or tamed into doing anything he didn't want to do. A very clever beast. Possibly more intelligent and calculating than he liked people to know.
    But he had just walked into that shop and encountered a woman as stubborn as he.
    Suddenly he moved those fingers to his temple, where an angry, red mark blossomed. He winced, heaving his shoulders, drawing a quick, pained breath. Although he tried to hide it in the shadow of his palm, the gleam of willful naughtiness was evident in his eyes.
    He was looking for her sympathy. Expecting it.
    Mary was unmoved. "I suppose that is the handiwork of your French lady." She pointed to the mark on his brow.
    "No," he conceded glumly. "A lamp post."
    "Combined with that scattered attention of which you are so proud."
    He uttered a low groan as his fingers tentatively felt the little bump. "I daresay it's the end of me. I am feeling rather weak and...and dizzy."
    "Has it knocked your brain loose?"
    From between his fingers another glimmer sparked, those wilting eyelids unable to hide it. "I could be at death's door. I've been there before, and it felt something like this." He grumbled, "There was a fearsome creature like you at my shoulder then too."
    As he put his hand down, she stepped forward to inspect the wound. Without getting too close, of course. "Goodness it's a mere scratch. What a lot of fuss, but that is what men do best."
    "How do you know it's a mere anything?" he snapped.
    "I grew up with brothers, sir. I tended all their wounds, of which there were many. Mostly self-inflicted. But then women are the smarter sex and I have, in my latter years, concluded that men are here solely for our amusement." She paused, swallowing the urge to laugh at his confused expression. "Have your housekeeper prepare a saline wash for your headache, a conserve of red roses and rotten apple for the bruise... and I'm sure she has some Godfrey's Cordial for any other complaint you might suffer."
    "Isn't that for colicky babies?"
    She shrugged. "Six of one and half a dozen of the other. In any case, you'll live."
    His eyes narrowed. "It's bloody well lucky for you that I did hit my head, isn't it, since it lured another customer into your trap?"
    "Indeed. I'm sure we'll talk about it for years to come— the curious incident of a man who doesn't read books walking into a bookshop. Shirtless. The start of a wonderful story in itself."
    "Yes it is." He advanced a step toward her, his shadow looming over Mary, his eyes darkly devouring her as if he was indeed an escaped panther and she a lost lamb. "If not for that lamp post, we may never have met. We might have dashed by — me and my shirtless chest—and never encountered those saucy lips of yours." He spoke in a low voice, not many tones removed from a growl. Or a very wicked purr. "Those delectable, rosy lips, ready to greet a hard-working fellow when he comes home in the evening. Like two soft, full pillows..."
    "Pillows? Is that the best you can do?"
    "...waiting on his bed after a long, dreary day."
    She sighed. "And where is this hard-working fellow of whom you speak?"
    "There is a man somewhere, I assume."
    "Why would you assume that? Because every little woman needs a man?"
    "Don't you?" He smirked. " Little woman ?"
    "If I need a book from the top shelf I have a wonderfully efficient ladder. What else would I need a man for?"
    He was the only man she'd ever seen who could scowl and quirk an eyebrow at the same time. It made him look quizzical, amused and