Touch Me by Jacquie D'Alessandro Read Free Book Online Page B

could only pray it wasn’t so, because Charles Brightmore lived right here in Little Longstone. Indeed, she saw the fictional man every morning when she looked in the mirror. Was her secret identity as the author of the scandalous tome that had shocked society in jeopardy of being uncovered?
    She pressed her hands to her midriff and drew a deepbreath. Dear God, was it possible there was more to Mr. Cooper’s visit to Little Longstone, to her cottage, than he’d admitted? Was it possible he knew, or suspected who she was? Had he been hired to locate Charles Brightmore? Or worse— harm Brightmore?
    She didn’t know, but she was determined to find out.

5
    T HE NEXT afternoon, after checking to make certain he was unobserved, Simon departed Mrs. Ralston’s cottage and headed swiftly down the path toward the village. Pulling his watch from his waistcoat pocket, he glanced at the time. Nearly one o’clock, almost an hour past the time he’d agreed to meet her. He slipped the timepiece back in his pocket and quickened his pace.
    After watching her and Baxter leave the cottage at a quarter ’til noon, he’d slipped inside and continued his search for the letter. Unfortunately he’d been no more successful than he had during his last hunting expedition. He’d wanted to remain longer, but he dared not lest she return home and catch him where he wasn’t supposed to be.
    Bloody hell, what had she done with that damn letter?
    If only her cat Sophia could talk. The animal had followed him from room to room, rubbing against him and purring loudly. When he’d scratched behind her ears and asked where his letter might be hidden, Sophia had merely leaned into his hand and purred louder. And Simon had asked himself the question he most didn’t want to—What if Mrs. Ralston had destroyed the letter?
    With grim determination, he’d headed toward her bedchamber, telling himself that if that were the case,then he’d just have to return to London, continue his investigation, and convince Waverly, along with Miller and Albury, of his innocence and that he needed their help to prove it. Surely, on a gut level, his mentor and two closest friends knew Simon wasn’t guilty. Someone, somewhere, knew something, knew the truth, and by God if the letter was lost to him, Simon would find that something.
    Searching Mrs. Ralston’s bedchamber again, he’d hated himself for the way his hands lingered over her clothing, her perfume bottle. Never in his life had he been so overwhelmed with lust, and definitely never during an investigation. The fact that he felt such staggering desire for a woman whose innocence was suspect truly grated on him. Bloody hell, he’d stolen one look at her in that wet chemise and taken leave of his senses. Throughout his search he’d had to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand, on finding the letter—the letter that would save his life.
    Still, while he hadn’t found the missive, he had discovered something very unexpected. Curiosity regarding what she’d been writing the night he’d hidden in her bedchamber had propelled him to her escritoire. Snatches of words written on the stack of vellum sheets he’d found in the top drawer of her desk drifted through his mind.
    Today’s Modern Woman should not hesitate to seduce her man…Today’s Modern Woman must master the art of removing her gentleman’s clothing—and her own…Today’s Modern Woman will greatly benefit from discreetly brushing her body against her gentleman’s in a crowded ballroom, then “accidentally” stroking her hand over the front of his breeches…
    The handwriting had started smoothly, but had degenerated into an increasingly cramped jumble of letters. Last night he’d read A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment by Charles Brightmore and although the writing style and mention of Today’s Modern Woman were identical to the pages he’d found in Mrs. Ralston’s desk, nothing in