To Surrender to a Rogue by Cara Elliott Read Free Book Online Page A

shadow made his eyes unreadable. ''Unfortunately, I do not have Hadley's gift of making himself agreeable to everyone, including children. He is lighthearted, while..." He paused to tuck a curling strand of raven hair behind his ear. "While, as you have taken pains to point out, I am dark as the Devil."
    It was true—in the low light his olive skin and long black locks made him look like a specter from the Underworld.
    "Hadley's charm has nothing to do with physical appearance," she replied. "His hair is as black as yours, sir. The difference is, he has a sense of humor. He smiles. He can laugh at himself." She paused. "You, on the other hand, march around with a fire-breathing scowl that would fry Satan's testicolos to a crisp."
    She heard him draw in a sharp breath. And then let it out in an odd little rush of air. Surely she was mistaken—it couldn't have been a chuckle.
    "Actually, as a cognoscente of Italian cuisine, I would choose to saute' them in olive oil," he said softly. "With a bit of minced garlic and oregano."
    Alessandra bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. So, she was wrong about his wit Black Jack Pierson was not such a martinet after all.
    As he reached for a tin that had escaped her notice, his touch grazed her glove, leaving a trail of tingling heat
    Dio Madre, he had beautiful hands, with long, lithe fingers that were elegantly expressive. Yet there was nothing effeminate about their grace. Hard and soft She remembered all too well the feel of their powerful grip imprinted on her flesh.
    Drawing back with an involuntary shiver, Alessandra rubbed at her knuckles. Why did this man spark such a visceral reaction in her? She wasn't sure whether she wanted to slap him...or beg him to slide his perfectly shaped palms over the swell of her breasts.
    Perhaps it was the subtle aura of strength that seemed to radiate from every pore. Jack was, she knew, a war hero who had won a chestful of medals for bravery in battle. Yet he appeared to care naught for flash and glitter. Quite the opposite. He seemed supremely self-confident in his own abilities supremely comfortable in his own skin.
    She forced her gaze away from his jawline, where the stark white of his starched collar and cravat accentuated the shadows wreathing his face.
    "Forgive me for keeping you waiting so long, madam." The clerk came hurrying around the corner but stopped short on seeing her and Jack squatting inelegantly on the floor. "Er... may I be of some assistance?"
    "Yes, thank you." Alessandra rose hastily and shook out her skirts, hoping she had not left her last shred of dignity in the dust "I have a list of items I need to purchase."
    Jack stood and brushed off his trousers. "An encounter with you is always a memorable experience," he said with exaggerated politeness. Spying her shopping basket in the shadows, he picked it up. "Good day, Lady—," he began, then fell silent as his gaze flicked to the cube of watercolor pigment that she had selected. "Is there a reason you chose this particular paint?" he asked.
    "I... that is..." To her chagrin, Alessandra felt her face turning crimson again. "I assumed that the more expensive one was the best."
    "That depends," he replied. "For a beginner, the pigment made by Newton is a better choice."
    "Why is that?"
    "Because the color is bolder and more opaque, which tends to suit the style of someone learning the basics of painting. The more expensive pigments use rarer ingredients, and usually provide a far more subtle range of hues. There is no need to waste your money."
    Jack took a closer look at the basket's contents. "And these sticks of charcoal are much too soft for a child." He replaced them with a different box. "The harder ones will be much easier to handle. As for sketchbooks, I recommend the ones made by Whatman. Their paper is the smoothest and most durable."
    "T-thank you," she murmured.
    "Don't mention it." Dropping his voice a notch, Jack added, "The shock of a grazie from