Too Sinful to Deny by Erica Ridley Read Free Book Online

her with liquor if she’s not paying?”
    “Haven’t. She came in all white-faced and trembling, and collapsed on the table herself. Been still as a corpse ever since.”
    If Evan hadn’t already known London ladies were both incomprehensible and more trouble than they were worth, those words would’ve convinced him. Sure, he’d given her a hard time earlier today, but it hadn’t been as bad as that.
    “Two whiskeys.”
    Sully poured two healthy shots.
    Evan carried them to the back table. The unsavories looming over the woman’s slumped figure dispersed at the first glance at his expression. Good. He kicked a chair out from the table and plopped down beside her. Jasmine. Definitely his favorite houseguest.
    “Thought I told you not to follow me.”
    Her head came up from the scarred table, but this time her eyes held no fire. They stared through him. As empty as Timothy’s.
    Evan hesitated. Something wasn’t right. He snapped his gaze toward the drunks who’d just quit the table. There were women you could touch, and women you couldn’t. They knew the difference as well as Evan did. If either of the fools had laid a finger on the misplaced debutante, he’d slice off their bollocks.
    Both men’s hands flew into the air, palms out. They shook their heads rapidly, as if reading his mind and disavowing all knowledge of Miss Stanton and her inexplicable condition. Fine.
    “Drink.”
    He’d meant to share the whiskey with her—if he could goad her into trying it at all—but it now appeared a medical necessity. He pushed both glasses toward her.
    Her hand shot forward and touched the back of his, then gripped it tight. Her fingertips were colder than the sea. At the contact, her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
    Damn it. He did not do crying females, but he especially did not do publicly crying females.
    “Get up.” He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”
    Despite his hand at her waist, she half-walked, half-stumbled to the door. Evan cast a murderous glare at the barman.
    “I swear,” Sully stammered nervously. “Nobody touched her and she didn’t drink a bloody drop.”
    When she swayed on the single step and almost fell sideways into the sand, Evan sighed and swung her small body up and into his arms for the second time that morning. She clung to his neck and trembled. But this time, he doubted it was due to his touch. For now.
    If he knew what was good for them both, he’d march her straight back to Moonseed Manor and lock her in her bedchamber himself.
    Pale blue eyes watched him from behind tear-streaked spectacles. “Where are you taking me?”
    Evan gave up. He never had been one for doing the right thing.
    “My house.”

    Susan had never planned on being carried over a threshold by a man who by the light of day looked far more like a footpad than a gentleman.
    Who knew how he’d managed to carry her a mile past the village and up a winding path to a surprisingly adequate two-story house perched in a hidden crevice in the side of the cliff. All right, perhaps his wide shoulders and strong arms and muscular frame accounted for that much. But as to why he’d bothered to help at all . . . the reasons for his altruism still remained a mystery.
    She would be wise not to trust him. He’d concurred with that conclusion himself.
    He deposited her on the softest-looking sofa in what could only be described as a sumptuous drawing room, and stepped back to give her a critical once-over.
    “How’s your arse?”
    “Bruised.” Susan rubbed at the gooseflesh covering her arms at the absence of his body heat. She’d actually forgotten the misadventure with the cliff . . . until he’d mentioned her backside. She chose not to be disagreeable. Much. “Thank you for inquiring.”
    Grains of sand speckled the carpet as he threw himself into an emerald-green wingback chair opposite her perch on the sofa. He stretched his legs out before him. Even in such unfathomable