The Temptation of Your Touch by Teresa Medeiros Read Free Book Online Page B

intention of placing so much as the pointy little toe of her half boot across the threshold of his bedchamber. Did she truly believe herself in danger of being ravished? Did he appear so desperate for female companionship that he would toss the first female domestic who crossed his path down on the musty mattress and force himself upon her?
    Max could feel his temper rising. He had spent so much of his life holding it in rigid control he almost didn’t recognize the danger signs until it was too late.
    When he finally spoke, his jaw was clenched so tightly his lips barely moved. “Would a fire in the hearth be too much to ask? And perhaps a bite of supper as well?”
    His housekeeper’s smile lost none of its infuriating serenity. “Of course not. I’ll send Dickon up right away with a tray and your portmanteau.” She started to turn away, then looked back at him. “Have no fear, my lord. We’ll be here to see to your every need.”
    The woman’s husky voice, completely at odds with her starched appearance, played over Max’s strained nerves like crushed velvet. Her innocent promise sent an image flitting through his mind, animage more shocking than any other he had contemplated on this night . . . or perhaps for a long time.
    Still smiling, she gently drew the door shut in his face, leaving him to wonder if he had chosen a punishment even he did not deserve.
    A NNE MADE IT AS far as the second-story gallery before collapsing against the balcony rail, her breath coming quick and hard. She felt as if she’d just run up a dozen flights of stairs instead of walking down one. She lifted a hand to smooth her hair, the tremor of her fingers betraying her. The unflappable Mrs. Spencer had vanished, leaving Anne to pay the price for her composure.
    “I daresay his lordship is not quite what you expected.”
    The mocking voice came out of the darkness, making Anne jump and grab at her heart. It might not have startled her so badly if the sentiment hadn’t echoed her own thoughts with such eerie accuracy.
    Pippa came gliding out of the shadows, grinning at her. “What’s wrong? Did you think I was a ghost?”
    Still clutching her heart, Anne glared at the girl. “Keep springing out at me like that and you’ll be one before your time. Why aren’t you back in bed?I barely managed to rouse you out of it to greet our illustrious new master.”
    Pippa had just turned sixteen, but when she wrinkled her pert little nose at Anne, she looked as if she were seven again. “Don’t be such a scold. I was just making sure His-High-and-Mighty didn’t try to take any liberties with his new housekeeper.”
    “And just what were you going to do if he did?”
    “Hit him over the head with a poker.”
    Anyone else would have assumed Pippa was joking, but Anne wasn’t even surprised when the girl’s slender hand emerged from the folds of her skirts to reveal the implement in question. Given the bloodthirsty glint in her eye, Pippa might have undertaken the task with more relish than was strictly necessary.
    “Dear Lord, Pippa!” Anne exclaimed. “You’re going to get us all hanged for murder. There’s no need for you to play knight in shining armor to my damsel in distress. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”
    “And Lord Scowlywood looks quite capable of ravishing a housekeeper and perhaps a scullery maid or two, all without removing his greatcoat or wrinkling his cravat.”
    Remembering how his powerful hand had closed over her arm with such startling intimacy and how close that simple touch had come toundoing her, Anne blew out a disheartened sigh, conceding Pippa’s point. “He’s certainly no doddering old fool inclined to drink too much port and mistake a sheet on a broom handle for a shrieking portent of doom.”
    Pippa’s observation also forced Anne to relive the shock of walking into the drawing room to find him standing there, glowering beneath those heavy, dark brows and dripping all over the