Seduction by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

grateful when he awoke. He was charming.” Charles Maurice was very eloquent, indicating some education and perhaps a genteel background. And he was dangerously charming.
    “Ah, if that last part is true, then clearly, he has won your fickle heart!”
    Julianne knew she was being teased, but she could not smile. She had thought about their guest night and day, well before he had awoken. She hoped she wasn’t as infatuated with the French stranger as she seemed to be. Maybe this was the right time to reveal his identity to her sister.
    “Julianne?” Amelia asked.
    Julianne pulled her out of the doorway. “There is something you should know.”
    Amelia stared. “Obviously I am not going to like it.”
    “No, I don’t think you will. You know Monsieur Maurice is a Frenchman, as I told you, Amelia…but he is not an émigré.”
    Amelia blinked. “What are you saying? Surely he is a smuggler, like Jack.”
    She wet her lips and said, “He is a French army officer, Amelia. He has survived terrible battles and the loss of so many of his men!”
    Amelia gasped. “And how did you reach such a conclusion? Did he tell you this when he was awake?”
    “He was delirious,” Julianne began.
    Amelia turned; Julianne seized her.
    “I have to notify the authorities!” her sister exclaimed.
    “You can do no such thing!” Julianne stepped in front of her, barring her way. “He is seriously ill, Amelia, and he is a hero!”
    “Only you would think such a thing!” Amelia cried. Then, lowering her voice, she continued. “I don’t believe it is legal to have him here. I must tell Lucas.”
    “No, please! He is doing no harm—he is ill! For my sake, let us help him recuperate, and then he can go on his way,” Julianne pleaded.
    Amelia stared at her, aghast and very grim. She finally said, “Someone will find out.”
    “I am going to see Tom immediately. He will help us keep him here, in secret.”
    Displeasure was written all over Amelia’s face. “I thought Tom was courting you.”
    Julianne smiled—the change in topic meant she had won. “Tom and I are always discussing politics, Amelia. We share the same views. But that is hardly a courtship.”
    “He is smitten. He might not approve of your guest.” She glanced into the bedchamber—and paled.
    Charles was watching them both, his expression oddly alert, even wary.
    The moment he saw her looking at him, he smiled and began to sit up. The covers fell to his waist, revealing his muscular chest.
    Julianne did not move. Had he just looked at her as if she was an adversary he did not trust?
    Amelia hurried into the room, her face set. Julianne followed her into the bedchamber. Her tension escalated.
    Had he overheard their argument?
    If he had, he gave no sign. Instead, Charles exchanged an intimate, sidelong look with her. Her insides seemed to vanish—it was as if they shared a sinful secret.
    But didn’t they?
    Images flashed through her mind of him standing up, stark naked, after falling; of his so casually wrapping the sheet around his waist, clearly not caring about his modesty; and of his slow, suggestive smile before he kissed her, when he had been delirious.
    Her heart was rioting now.
    She glanced at Amelia closely, but Amelia gave no sign that she was interested in his broad, sculpted chest. He was pulling the covers up modestly. As Amelia went to the table to retrieve the dinner tray, Charles looked at her again, a warm light in his eyes.
    “Your sister, I presume?” he asked.
    Amelia faced him, holding his supper tray, before Julianne could speak. Her French was excellent; she also spoke Spanish and some German and Portuguese. “Good evening, Monsieur Maurice. I hope you are feeling better. I am Amelia Greystone.”
    “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Greystone. I cannot thank you and your sister enough for your hospitality and your kindness in nursing me during my recovery from my wounds.”
    Amelia brought Charles his tray. “You are