The Greatest Lover in All England by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page A

only for Bethlehem Hospital.” She clapped the wig on her head, not caring that her own hair straggled beneath and around as if she were the lunatic she declared him. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I assure you”—she rounded on him, and found his palm again extended—“that you’ll be horrified”—his fine eyes cherished her countenance as no man had ever done—“when you discover”—his fingers flexed invitingly, and she stared at that hand. Stared, and wished he hadn’t ignited that spark within her. For it burned still, warm and tempting, and she knew not what would douse it.
    But she suspected that he knew.
    With an incoherent cry, she fled, running across the stubble of lawn, sure that he would pursue.
    He did not.
    Subduing his predatory impulse, he watched herrun and laughed aloud, then turned and waved at Jean.
    She lifted a wary hand, and he swaggered toward his manor. It was an impressive structure, with three stories of pale stones, built in the shape of an E. The railed terrace jutted out along the whole length of the front, and chimneys, statues, and arches decorated the roof. A fine house and a worthy home for him and for his lady.
    Would it be the little wren who’d run from him?
    Perhaps it would be. Her appearance had been uninspiring from a distance, and worse upon close examination, but she kissed like a dream and displayed such a sweet confusion he’d been charmed. After all, her youth proved her greatest ally, and her clothing was easily improved.
    Aye, he would enjoy pretending she was his true love. He’d enjoy setting her on fire, and teaching her how to set him on fire, too. He shifted uncomfortably.
    Set him on fire more . His canions fit him well, he’d seen to that. The shaped, short breeches had been sewn by the finest tailor in London, for his position in the Queen’s Guard occasionally required him to dodge an assassin’s knife or fight in Her Majesty’s defense. But nothing could ease the strength of his arousal, and he wondered at himself.
    Did he need a woman so badly? Or did that plain girl have that special gift, the one that set foolish men ablaze with passion?
    He looked again in the direction she’d run, toward the stage that the actors had set up. He’d have to find out, wouldn’t he?
    The play had begun, a quick, comic piece to entertain the gentlefolk, to lure them to the later, longer performance. A quick glance around verified that the girlhad vanished. No more than he expected, for she would try to avoid him, and he would let her—until he needed further defense against Honora.
    Taking his place at the edge of the crowd, Tony looked neither left nor right, smiling politely at the eligible girls as they beckoned.
    â€œAnthony!” Honora’s precise voice spoke close to his shoulder. “Come and sit with me on the front row. I reserved a place for you on the bench.”
    He jumped as if he were guilty.
    Damn Jean for mentioning that diabolical union. He’d been one of the few men who’d been able to treat Lady Honora with equanimity. Her lush body and equally lush estates attracted many an unwary man, but her unsmiling countenance, her erect posture, her lack of humor propelled them into the arms of younger, poorer girls. He hadn’t realized the tragedy of it until this moment, when he faced the prospect of Lady Honora across a breakfast table, her flat voice instructing him on his duties. Or worse, the prospect of Lady Honora laid across a bed, instructing him on his duties.
    The woman was so convinced of her own superiority that she intimidated lesser mortals, and she now intimidated him. Ironically, the very characteristic which presumably had attracted her had proved his downfall. “Lady Honora, I am comfortable when I stand.”
    â€œNonsense!” With a grip unfashionably strong, she jerked him sideways. “You are the host. It is