The Savage Miss Saxon by Kasey Michaels Read Free Book Online Page B

the blood line will go on. The name dies with me.”
    Here it comes, Nicholas thought gloomily. Here’s where I either save the day or end up getting a firsthand look at the infamous Saxon dungeons. “How fortunate for you to bring up the subject, Sir Alexander—the subject of marriage, that is,” the Earl began staunchly. He paused for a moment to run a finger under his suddenly tight collar. “You see, sir—”
    “Oh give over, you idiot,” Alexandra broke in. “Lord knows what you have to say won’t improve any with keeping.” Turning to her grandfather she told him baldly, “This fool here says I have to marry him.”
    “By thunder!” Sir Alexander bellowed, and turned to peer very hard at his lordship.
    Nicholas returned the man’s look with a lopsided smile. “I imagine you can ascertain from the lady’s tone that she ain’t mad for the notion. Perhaps if we all sat down, I could explain everything for you.”
    “Married?” Sir Alexander thundered again. “Explain, you say? This calls for some serious discussion. Nutter!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the high rafters. “Fetch us some sustenance—and bring me my Hollands.”
    At Alexandra’s questioning look Nicholas leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Hollands is a sort of gin. It may look like the old boy’s drinking water, but I assure you no mere glass of water packs the punch of Sir Alexander’s Hollands.”
    They adjourned to one of the trestle tables, Nicholas and Alexandra sharing a bench on one side while Sir Alexander arranged his ample behind on another bench across the table from them.
    An uneasy silence was maintained until Nutter and the other servant deposited a tray of strange-looking meat and a decanter of Hollands in front of their master. There were glasses enough for three, but it seemed they were all to share the same bowl of meat, as Sir Alexander demonstrated by picking out one greasy-looking morsel and popping it into his mouth before pushing the bowl in their direction and waving a hand over it in a move that said, “Help yourselves.”
    Nicholas had eaten at Saxon Hall before—which explained his sudden loss of appetite. Alexandra was not so forewarned. She dipped her fingers into the bowl and lifted out a large chunk of meat, putting the entire piece into her mouth at one time. Mannering watched her face in amusement as he waited for her reaction. It was not long in coming. First her dark eyes widened. Then her throat began to work convulsively. As he looked more closely, he could have sworn he saw little beads of perspiration break out beneath her eyes.
    Before he could put out a hand to stop her, she grabbed the goblet in front of her and took a large gulp of Hollands in hopes of putting out the fire in her mouth. It didn’t—it merely added fuel to the flames. As she broke into paroxysms of coughing and sputtering, Mannering helpfully pounded on her back, trying his best not to ruin the effect of his solicitude by dissolving into laughter.
    “Nutter,” he asked the servant once Alexandra had regained some control over herself, “tell me—do you boil this meat?”
    “Boil it, my lord? No sir, it weren’t boiled. I jist cooked it like alwas, rollin’ the pork first in salt, then in ginger, galingole, cloves, and two kinds of pepper. The master likes to know when he’s got sumthin in his mouth, so he alwas says.”
    “You knew that would happen,” Alexandra charged Mannering angrily as she wiped her tears on the sleeve of her dress. “How dare you not warn me? Oh, for two pins I’d dump the whole of that poisonous dish smack down on top of your insufferable head!”
    “The devil you will, gel!” Sir Alexander exploded, wiping his hands on his chest. “By Jupiter, only Charles could sire such a bad-mannered female. Six of the best with the birch rod, Linton—that’s what this one needs.”
    “I’ll keep it in mind, sir,” Nicholas answered, grinning broadly at the still fuming Alexandra.