With This Ring by Amanda Quick Read Free Book Online Page B

swallowed twice, very quickly, and recovered his composure. "M'Iord, such an action may not lie within my power. Mrs. Poole is a very forceful lady. I'm not sure the devil himself could stop her if she took a mind to vacate the premises."
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    "Fortunately, we need not look to the devil for assistance. I think I can handle this on my own."
    "I beg your pardon, sir?"
    Leo went to the window. "At dawn you will send word to Mrs. Poole that the river is in full flood. The bridge is underwater and will not be passable for at least another day."
    "But the rain stopped an hour ago. The bridge will be quite passable in the morning."
    "You do not comprehend me, Finch," Leo said very softly. "The bridge will be underwater for at least a full day." "Underwater. I see. Yes, m'lord."
    "Thank you, Finch. I knew I could rely upon you." Leo turned around. "You may inform Mrs. Poole that I shall join her for breakfast. Afterward I shall conduct her on a tour of the greenhouse."
    "The greenhouse. Yes, m1ord." Dazed, Finch bowed and left the library.
    Beatrice inhaled the rich, earthy scents of the greenhouse and wondered if she had been tricked. She could hardly blame the earl for the flooded river, she thought. Not unless she was willing to subscribe to the Monkcrest legend and attribute, supernatural powers over the elements to him.
    She refused to succumb to such foolishness. As intriguing as Monkcrest was, he could not command the forces of nature. On the other hand, the longer she spent in the earl's company, the easier it was to believe that he was no ordinary man. Intelligent, enigmatic, and imbued with an unsettling degree of self-mastery, yes. But definitely not ordinary.
    His looks fascinated her far more than the legend that surrounded him. He had the stern, unyielding countenance of a man who did not compromise easily or well. Of course, he'd probably never had much experience in the fine art. This was not a man who had ever been obliged to defer to others.
     
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    There was just enough silver in his hair to interest her. He was no raw, untried youth. Leo was a man who had seen something of life and had come to his own conclusions about it. His eyes were an unusual shade of amber brown. The expression in them was made enigmatic by the combined forces of his will and intelligence.
    She knew enough about him now to realize that certain aspects of the legend were true. He was arrogant and opinionated. But there was no denying that he stirred her imagination in a way that not even Justin Poole had done in the days of their courtship.
    She was a bit too old to be reacting this way, she thought, annoyed. The quickening of the pulse, the compelling curiosity, and the sense of acute awareness were for young ladies such as Arabella. A mature widow of twentynine ought to be well beyond this sort of thing.
    Monkcrest would be shocked if he knew what she was thinking. The tale of his short-lived marriage was part of the Monkcrest legend. Aunt Winifred, always a fountain of information on such personal details, had given her the essentials of the story.
    "Everyone knows that the Mad Monks are an odd lot," Winifred said. "Unlike most people, they follow their hearts in matters of love. I believe that the current earl was married when he was nineteen."
    "So young?" Beatrice asked, surprised.
    "They say she was the woman of his dreams. A paragon of a wife and a loving mother. He gave his heart to her and she gave him his heir and a spare. But only a few short years later she died of a lung infection."
    "How sad."
    "It is said that Monkcrest was heartbroken. Vowed never to remarry. The Mad Monks love only once in a lifetime, you see."
    "And having gotten himself two sons, there was no
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    pressing need for him to wed again, was there?" Beatrice said dryly.
    Winifred looked thoughtful. "Actually, his story is very much like your own, my dear. A tragedy of great love found and then lost much too soon."
    Beatrice