Scoundrel for Hire (Velvet Lies, Book 1) by Adrienne deWolfe Read Free Book Online Page B

affections, while Silver had wasted her time conversing with morally deficient men.
    Exasperated by the sheer unfairness of it all, she stalked out onto the balcony for relief from the furnace's carbony smell. A chilly breeze riffled a rowan, whose weighty branches bowed low over the railing as if to invite her to sample the fragrance of its blossoms. She shivered irritably instead. Aside from the occasional wildflower bouquet, which she allowed her servants to decorate the parlor with, she'd always found nature to be a nuisance, something to overcome in the struggle to unearth ore or to freight modern conveniences across the mountains to her father's mansion.
    Frowning up at the sky, she recalled how little she liked the moon, too. Out here, it made the dance of light and shadow enigmatic, a lover's shroud for stolen intimacies. The notion conjured more uncomfortable memories. Trying to shake them off, she focused on the clouds instead.
    There'd been a time in her life when she'd waxed romantic about the allure of celestial bodies, but she was older now and sadly wiser. She'd learned not to succumb to the enchantment of the moon after it had tricked her into trusting Aaron.
    Satisfied that the sky wasn't going to unleash itself and keep her from a mud-free getaway at dawn, she started to turn, intent on packing her bags and abandoning her scheme, when something glinted, catching her eye. It had come from the rowan's quivering maze of leaves and flowers. Curious, she stepped nearer. A pair of silvery eyes stared back at her from the canopy's shifting, velvet shadows.
    "But soft," her voyeur purred in a liquid southern drawl, "What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."
    Dumbstruck, Silver blinked for a full heartbeat before she could rally her wits enough to confirm that a man, not an angel, was perched in her tree quoting Shakespeare. His hair, she decided, was what had made her doubt her senses. Ivory-gold, perhaps amber, it gleamed with a pale luminescence above a high, intelligent brow. As much as she liked to think herself unmoved by masculine beauty, she couldn't help but gawk at his chiseled cheekbones, clefted chin, and lips so sinfully sensual that she didn't know whether to be alarmed or mesmerized when they smiled. Surely a face such as his had inspired the masterworks of Michelangelo.
    Nonsense, Silver. You've been associating with grizzled, unkempt miners for too long.
    With supreme effort, she recovered the use of her wit and her tongue. "You've mistaken your balcony, Romeo. No ladylove waits for you here. Perhaps you should try the plum tree next door."
    He chuckled, a sensual melody that played over her senses with all the golden resonance of a cello. "Fair Juliet mistakes me, I fear. Did you not ask me to meet you alone? To discuss an arrangement?"
    Silver started. This time his swallowtail coat, white bow tie, and watchfob registered on her brain. Then came his cologne, a tantalizing whiff of sandalwood and pine. An electrifying jolt smoked down her nerves. He was the imposter!
    "B-but how is that possible?" she stammered. "I mean, your hair. And your whiskers!"
    "Stage makeup, my dear Miss Nichols. Theatrical whiskers and a wig. You're not disappointed that I'm not an overfed graybeard, are you?"
    She swallowed. Good heavens, no. Or rather, yes! Lord, what was the matter with her? The man was a liar and a thief. Judging by his mouthwatering good looks, he was probably a rake as well. She'd become far too acquainted with the dangers of rakes to linger in the moonlight with one.
    "I must ask you to leave my tree at once," she said firmly.
    "Forgive me." He looked far more contrite than he sounded. "I've shocked you. But I assure you, Miss Nichols, you have nothing to fear from me. After all, you were kind enough not to sic the marshal on me. I owe you a debt of gratitude."
    She moistened her lips. She had everything to fear from him, she realized uneasily, and precisely for