Strangers at Dawn by Elizabeth Thornton Read Free Book Online Page B

Let’s not examine it in the cold light of day.” Then more softly, because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, “Let’s say our good-byes now. Really, I think it’s better this way.”
    She hardly recognized the voice that came to her out ofthe darkness. The velvet had been replaced by steel. “Midsummer madness? I hardly think so. You want to run away. I can understand that. But I’m afraid I can’t permit it.”
    This wasn’t the voice of her long-lost friend. Where was the charm? The gentleness? Sara sank back on her elbows as she heard flint strike on iron. Her tame lamb didn’t sound so tame any more.
    And suddenly, she was very afraid.

Four

    M AX LIT TWO OF THE CANDLES ON THE mantelpiece, then slowly turned to look at the woman who had streaked into his orbit with the velocity of a comet. Once, as a boy, he’d taken shelter under a tree that was struck by lightning, and he’d had a miraculous escape. He was hoping against hope that he would have a miraculous escape this time around as well.
    She was picking up the pieces of broken glass that littered the floor. When she’d disposed of them in the wash basin, she turned to face him.
    Her fiery dark hair fell about her shoulders in a torrent of tight waves; she had the kind of bones that were to be found on the sculptures of Greek deities. But it was her eyes that held him, dark and huge against the pallor of her skin.
    Those dark eyes were wary, but they gazed at him directly all the same. He liked her directness. She wasn’t going to cry rape or try to evade her share of responsibility for what had happened between them. The question was-what exactly had happened between them?
    He couldn’t put a name to it. All he would allow at this point was that he had no more intention of allowing thiswoman to walk out of his life than he had of giving up ownership of the Courier.
    She’d noticed that her breasts were bared. No blushes or hysterics, Max noted with approval. Her eyes still on his, she began to do up the buttons on her bodice. It was just as well. Unsated desire was still a threat to his control, and they had a great deal to talk over.
    He gave her a smile that was calculated to reassure her and melt her heart at the same time. “I’m really quite harmless,” he said.
    The wariness in her eyes slowly dissipated. “Are you? You don’t look harmless to me. In fact, you look as though you’ve just come from the wars.”
    God, he loved her voice—husky, prim, sinfully seductive-a study in contradictions, just like the lady herself. Her words registered, and he looked down at his clothes, saw that his shirt and neck cloth were spattered with blood, then looked up and grinned. “I was in a fight,” he said. “I lost.” He touched a hand to his face. “I’ve been told that I’ll have a black eye by morning.” He worked his jaw, and felt his nose. “It could have been worse.”
    “Are you a Corinthian?”
    He could tell by her tone that she didn’t think much of Corinthians. “I suppose I am. Why?”
    “I have two brothers who are Corinthians, or aspiring Corinthians, and they’re always getting into fights.”
    “This was a contest. There is a difference.”
    She was weighing him up, taking in the cut of his garments, the tight fit of his trousers, her eyes lingering on his Hessian boots with their gold tassels.
    He said humorously, “In case you’re too shy to ask, Weston of Bond Street is my tailor, and Schulz is my bootmaker.”
    “So I gathered,” she answered coolly.
    She’d summed him up as a fribble, a member of the dandy set. Max didn’t know whether to laugh out loud orget on his high horse and tell her that in the newspaper world he was known as a force to be reckoned with.
    She’d learn that he was a force to be reckoned with soon enough.
    Trying to make the movement as unthreatening as possible, he took a step toward her. She didn’t flinch or bolt; she simply reached for her robe and slipped into