The Marriage Trap by Elizabeth Thornton Read Free Book Online Page B

the café. He must be worried out of his mind, wondering what has happened to me.”
    “Aurora,” he said gently, “I know there's no husband. You don't wear a ring.”
    She held out her left arm with the glove that sheathed it to well above her elbow, then looked up at him. “You can't know that!”
    He gave a helpless shrug. “My chivalry is only skin-deep, I'm afraid. When I took your hand to help you up the stairs, I took the liberty of feeling for a ring. There wasn't one.”
    Her eyes glittered up at him. Her voice was cool. “And would a ring make a difference, Jack?”
    He nodded. “Regrettably, yes.”
    “‘Regrettably'?”
    “There is nothing that dampens my ardor more than the sight of a wedding ring on the finger of a beautiful woman.”
    She tilted her head to one side as she gazed up at him. “Well, here is something else to dampen your ardor. I'm not interested. Now what do you have to say to that?”
    There it was again, that feeling of déjà vu. The way she tilted her head, challenging him, reminded him of . . . The memory wouldn't come to him.
    Maybe if he removed her mask, all would become clear.
    “Allow me,” he said, and before she could prevent it, he had the mask in his hand.
    Her eyes were green. Or were they gray? “We've met before, haven't we?” he said.
    “Have we?” Her voice was shaken, breathless.
    He reached out to remove the combs from her hair and let out a choked gasp when she gave him a hard shove. Clutching the wound under his armpit, he staggered to the nearest chair and slowly, carefully eased himself down.
    “What did I do?” she cried.
    “Nothing.” His teeth were clenched. “It's only a trifling wound that I got dueling. I think my shirt must be stuck to it.”
    She gave a soft gasp when he removed his fingers from under his armpit and she saw the blood. Moving quickly, she crossed to him and knelt down. “Let me see,” she said.
    There was no need for alarm. In fact, now that he'd adjusted his position, the pain had gone. He knew that all he had to do to stanch the bleeding was keep his arm close to his side. But he decided that he liked the anxious look on her face, liked the soothing touch of her fingers as she eased the edges of his jacket aside.
    She shook her head. “This won't do. I can't see anything. Let's get your jacket off, then your waistcoat.”
    He wasn't one to argue with fate. She wanted to get his clothes off, and he was happy to oblige. Besides, he liked being fussed over. Fawning, pursuit, lures, and snares—that was his usual treatment at the hands of women. No woman had ever looked at him with such sweet concern.
    At the gentle pressure of her hands, he edged forward in the chair. She went behind him and, murmuring soothing words of encouragement, eased his jacket off. This done, she kneeled in front of him and began on his waistcoat. Her fingers could not work the buttons free.
Tsk
ing, she removed her gloves, inch by slow inch, and set them aside.
    The unconscious feminine gesture evoked lurid pictures in his mind, and warm pleasure rose in him. Breathing harshly, he spread his legs to give her easier access. The position was highly suggestive. She must have been aware of it, too, because her fingers trembled as she undid each button. The air between them was becoming charged.
    He could hear the soft sound of her breathing, smell the faint fragrance of flowers. “Aurora.” His voice was husky.
    Her fingers stilled and she looked up at him.
    Her eyes were huge and dark in her pale face. He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek and smiled when her lids grew heavy. His fingers moved on, gently tracing the line of her jaw, her ears, her neck. When he felt the frantic pulse in the hollow of her throat, he took her fingers and pressed them to her own throat, then to his.
    “See what you do to me?” he murmured. “See what I do to you?”
    What was she thinking, feeling? He had to know.
    He used his good arm to draw her