Rules of Attraction by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online

did he, long enough for Hannah to fill her belly and empty the bowl.
    As soon as she set her spoon down, he said, "You haven't changed. You can still eat, regardless of the situation."
    "It's a trick I learned when I was little, and seldom knew where my next meal would come from." Cradling the goblet in one hand, she swirled the ruby liquid and watched as the firelight sparkled in the cut glass.
    Avoiding his gaze, as she had sought to do all evening. So he would taunt her with those remembrances she so desperately sought to avoid. Dear God, how long he had waited to taunt her! "My dear, I asked especially that burgundy be served, since I know you like it so well. Is it… to your liking?"
    She didn't look at him. She knew why he asked, but she clung to her pretense of ignorance like a shipwreck victim clings to the last vestige of the timbers. "The burgundy is excellent, but as I recall, your cellar was always superior."
    If he remembered how to smile, he would have. Her evasion was masterful, but he knew it was only an evasion. That day on the train had changed her from a girl into a woman, and regardless of any misplaced effort she might make at modesty, he would remind her at every opportunity.
    For he could never forget.
    He grabbed the young street thief by the throat and shook him like a terrier with a rat. "Where is she?"
    The lad clawed at Dougald's hands until Dougald loosened his grip. "There," he croaked. "She ran there."
    He pointed at Liverpool's teeming train yard, confirming Dougald's worst fears. Young Hannah was leaving him the most direct way possible— the most dangerous way possible— on a train carrying freight to Birmingham. His betrothed was a little fool… The thief's struggles attracted his attention, and Dougald tightened his grip again. "Did you hurt her?"
    "No, sir, I swear! Dressed like a lad, she was, an' carryin' a sissy pocketbook. I just laughed at 'er, an' she flung it at me!" The young thief swallowed. "No money in it, sir, but I didn't take no grudge. I wouldn't hurt th' lady, sir. I wouldn't hurt one o' th' touched ones." He pointed a grubbed finger toward his forehead.
    Yes, the boy thought Hannah was insane. Perhaps everyone would think her insane and avoid her. Perhaps her own impetuosity would be her salvation.
    Releasing the lad, Dougald raced through the crowds of men who worked loading American cotton onto English railcars. Occasionally one would glance at him, then grin and point further into the railyard, directing him after the girl who imagined herself in disguise. Each gesture confirmed Dougald's hope— his fear— that Hannah had not passed unnoticed. For while most of the men were hard-working, family men, some knaves would sneak away to take advantage of her plight. Dougald followed directions, hurrying, breathless, imagining the worst and fearing he would be too late. The men pointed him toward a train that puffed and chugged. Standing in the shadows, he hunted for her with his gaze as the train slowly pulled away.
    And he saw her. Sitting in the open door of a car, dressed in one of his boyhood outfits, her feet swinging, her eyes wide and excited.
    Beautiful, silly girl. He had sheltered her for five years, knowing she would be his one day, pleased with her intelligence, obedience, and femininity. Now the child had vanished, replaced by a woman whose curves no amount of schoolboy clothing could disguise. Errant strands of blonde hair dangled beside her face. A brilliant smile lifted her lips, as though the thought of escaping from him and from her obligations brought her joy.
    Proof positive that she didn't comprehend the dangers that faced a young runaway.
    Breaking into a run, he raced for the back of the train. He barely caught a handhold on the last car. He hefted himself up onto the platform. Balancing on the narrow, shaking boards, he studied his predicament. Hannah's car was the third from the end. The train was gaining speed. Metal rungs were fastened on the