The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) by Barbara Devlin Read Free Book Online Page B

from his lips to his crotch. When she emitted a soft gasp of surprise, he retreated a step. “I beg your pardon, Miss Daphne, as such behavior is unforgivable.”
    “Oh, please, do not apologize.” With an expression of pure wonder, she touched a finger to her mouth, and the apples of her cheeks flushed a charming rose hue. “I would take it as the height of insult were you to mark my first kiss with an exclamation of regret.”
    “Your first kiss?” For the second time in as many minutes, shock invested his frame. “Do you mean you have never indulged in a bit of harmless love play with the local dandies?”
    “I have not.” She frowned and thrust her adorable chin. “What do you take me for, Sir Dalton? Let me assure you, I am no woman of loose morals.”
    “And I never implied such, but—what about when you were a young girl?” Incredulity rattled him to his toes. “Did you not explore any newfound physical urges with someone of similar age?”
    “What physical urges?” She blinked, and he reminded himself the governor’s daughter was but a backwater lass, reared on an island, no less. “I know nothing of the sort.”
    “You must have been curious.” Stunned by the revelation, and the newfound temptation she manifested, he sputtered and stammered. Then he surmised she joked. “Pull my other leg.”
    “Pull your leg? Are you mad?” She scoffed and backed beyond reach. “I will do no such thing.”
    “Relax, as it is a harmless old adage, my dear.” Dalton splayed his palms. “It was not my intent to alarm you, but you have addled my brain, given your unexpected, rare, and altogether arresting naïveté.”
    “Are you complimenting or insulting me, sir?” She gulped. “As I am unsure.”
    “Believe me, I pay you the ultimate compliment, loveliest Daphne.” Never in his life had he possessed carnal knowledge of a virgin, as his tastes leaned toward more experienced territory, but he wrestled with a sudden urge to explore Miss Harcourt’s uncharted harbor. “And it would be my honor to dine with you.”
    “Then we shall welcome you at six, tomorrow evening.” She sketched a half-curtsey and then, to his befuddlement and delight, leaped forward, pressed her lips to his with a resounding smack, squealed, and ran into the house. Never had such an innocuous overture impacted him with such fervor, as the cannon in his crotch primed for battle. His ears pealed, like the bells in a Wren steeple, and telltale warmth pervaded his chest. For several seconds, he just stood there, grinning as a giddy schoolboy, for no particular reason. When his stallion whinnied, Dalton jumped into the saddle and steered for the lane.
    A side path, which led behind the estate, caught his attention, and Dalton veered to the right, even as he retrieved his lucky coin from his waistcoat pocket and flipped the talisman into the air, as was his way. He kept the horse to a simple trot along the verge and ventured forth, scanning either side of the trail. Soon a rundown barn loomed, and he neared with care, on alert for any possible witnesses. After circling the structure, he dismounted.
    What struck him as odd was the fact that no stable hand had appeared. In fact, the outbuilding seemed all but abandoned. Inside, each stall sat empty, devoid of even a scrap of hay. There remained not a single tackle, saddle, or coach, and only one phaeton, dust-covered and marred by a broken spring, parked in the main area.
    As he stepped into the sunlight, he gazed at the sky and frowned. “Miss Daphne, your situation is more dire than I had thought.”
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    Palpable silence filled her ears, excepting the repetitive beat of her heart, more deafening than the most ominous clap of thunder or piercing scream. A black chasm encompassed the world, absent any sign of life, save the riveting gold coin, which glowed as a beacon of what she knew not, yet it inspired no fear or trepidation, as it tossed in the air.
    Gasping for