The Marker by Meggan Connors Read Free Book Online

thought wrong. Being a practical woman, I am not interested in matters of the heart, Mr. Wetherby. I’m interested in the plight of the proletariat,” she said with such passion he almost believed her. “I’m interested in the fate of the working class, seeing as I am a servant .”
    “So, the plight of the working class had you in tears?”
    Her eyes widened in an expression of surprise so fleeting he wondered if he had imagined it. Straightening her shoulders, her face a mask of serenity, she said, “Yes. It’s a sad fate to be a servant in the working class. I would know.”
    Her words stung more than he cared to admit. “So my library is a means for you to improve your station?” he asked, taken aback by her vehemence. She seemed to enjoy the finer things, and he had finer things. He had looks and money but little else to offer anyone. Those things had always been enough before.
    “Indeed,” she said coolly.
    “You could always improve your station by taking one of the guest rooms,” Nicholas suggested.
    “Bah! I’ll not be taking anything from you. I’ll be advancing my position with my own hard work and sweat. I’ll do it by my own merits!”
    Damn him if he didn’t believe her. If she hadn’t been reading Engels, he knew she had in the past. Heady stuff for a woman so lovely, but then, Alexandra Markland was not like any woman he had ever met. Turning the conversation back to something more comfortable for him, he said, “There are much more pleasant ways to advance your position than hard work, though sweat may certainly be involved. I can think of several.”
    “You are incorrigible!” she shrieked.
    He couldn't deny that, so instead he said, “Let me see the book.”
    “No!”
    “Perhaps I’d learn a thing or two. Your influence could affect the conditions under which my employees labor,” he mocked, and her cheeks glowed with embarrassment. He was behaving like an absolute boor, and his older brother, had he lived, would be ashamed of his conduct, but drink emboldened him. Alexandra was beyond seduction tonight. Besides, he liked the way her eyes glittered when she was angry, the way her lips tightened into a stubborn line. He never should have sought her out when he was drunk, but even that thought didn’t force him to turn away. He wasn’t sure anything could.
    Holding out his hand, he said, “Give me the book.” He wanted to see for himself if the work of German philosophers had affected her to such a degree that she wept.
    Her cheeks went red with anger, but all it did was encourage him. She was beautiful when enraged. With a cry, she hefted the book over her head and threw it into a stack of books piled on his desk. The books tumbled and fell in a heap.
    He laughed at her show of temper. A fiery heart lurked underneath the polite, formal demeanor she presented to him daily, and he liked bringing it out. “Feel better?”
    “You are impossible!”
    He smiled at the wrath in her eyes, but he thought he saw the relief in them, too. “Well, now, that was hardly polite. How are you going to repay me for possibly destroying my book?”
    “Take the cost out of my salary,” she spat, angrily pushing a long, black tendril from her face. He had the urge to take the lock of hair and wrap it around his finger, to stroke her dark head, and he very nearly did until she continued, “Oh, right, you’re not paying me. ”
    “Hm. I’ll just have to think of something,” he replied lazily. He took another step toward her, but she stood her ground, hands on her hips, obsidian eyes burning bright. She glared at him for a moment, her mouth set into a stubborn pout. Her full lower lip drew his attention, and he could think of nothing else but tasting her again, so he took her into his arms and kissed her.
    Her body was tense and rigid when he began kissing her, but within seconds, she relaxed against him, her body melting into his. He hardly had to press her to open her mouth for him, and he