The Earl is Mine by Kieran Kramer Read Free Book Online Page A

fetch her, there could be no stuff and nonsense.
    He thought of the yellow spencer with the enormous paste emerald buttons she’d worn in Eliza’s garden, her laugh, the extravagance of her lips, her pert breasts, and that damnably adorable sugar castle—and a frisson of foreboding passed through him.
    Pippa was made for stuff and nonsense.
    *   *   *
    And so another birthday for Bertie was over, and Pippa had survived Gregory’s visit. She was fairly content when she went to bed, although in the morning, she would remind Uncle Bertie that she wasn’t going to London with Gregory. She was going to Paris without Gregory. After that, she’d spend her life ignoring Gregory and making sugar sculptures. Nothing would ever be about Gregory again.
    But every thought she had when she retired to bed contained Gregory’s name, and it was driving her mad. She wanted to forget Gregory!
    “I can do it,” she said, and slipped into a soft muslin gown—her favorite, with lace at the cuffs and neck. But the feeling of the fabric sliding over her breasts reminded her of the one time Gregory had slid his hands over her breasts. And when she lay down, she remembered all the nights she’d imagined kissing him by pressing her face into her pillow in silly but pleasurable fashion.
    Well after midnight, which was the last time she’d looked at her bedside clock, Pippa was dreaming of feeding Gregory a sugary gargoyle and then kissing his mouth when she heard an unfamiliar whisper, “Lady Pippa!”, in her ear. “Lady Pippa, wake up!”
    It was more impatient than threatening, this voice.
    And it was male.
    Male .
    There shouldn’t be a man in her room!
    Her eyes flew open to see a man with no chin and large teeth anxiously biting his lower lip and leaning over her. He was dressed in traveling coat, trousers, and boots. She gave a little cry and sat up, the bedclothes clutched to her chest. “I’ll kill you if you try to hurt me. I’ve got a pistol under my pillow, and I know how to use it.” She reached behind her back, pretended to retrieve the weapon, and pointed her finger at him beneath the sheets.
    “That’s your finger,” he said matter-of-factly. “You can put it away. I won’t hurt you. I’m Broderick Hawthorne, here to marry you.”
    “What?” she choked out. “How did you get in? Is there a fire?”
    “Of course not.” He chuckled. “I used a key.” He held up a small brass one, the spare one.
    “Mr. Trickle must have given you that!”
    “Indeed, he did.” He sat next to her, and Pippa scrambled to the far side of the bed and stood. “Think of me as a dream come true, my lady, the best dream you’ve ever had.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not only are you extremely vain, you’re the furthest thing I can imagine from a dream come true. This is entirely inappropriate, sir.” She felt anger in every limb, making them tremble. “How dare you enter my room uninvited? Please leave immediately.” She threw a glance at the door only to see that her key was not in the lock.
    Hawthorne raised a second key and waved it lazily over the coverlet. “You’ll have to kiss me to get this, sweet damsel.”
    “I said leave .” Her stomach lurched, and she couldn’t help but think that Gregory and Uncle Bertie would be furious if they knew what was happening. She should scream right now—Uncle Bertie’s hearing was excellent—and she would if she had to. But if she could resolve this dilemma without involving anyone else, she’d prefer that. Uncle Bertie wasn’t getting any younger, and his heart didn’t need the jolt it would surely get if she cried for help.
    Mr. Hawthorne stood. “Hurry, now. I’ve got a coach waiting for us at the end of the drive. I’ve already got a special license. We can marry anywhere, not be forced to journey all the way to Gretna.”
    She pointed a shaky left index finger to her door. “Get out of here. I’m not going to marry you. I’m going to Paris. And