A Dangerous Love Read Online Free PDF

employer’s future inheritance. I simply wondered if your father knows that his daughter risks her life for…whatever is in that desk.”
    A stubborn look settled over her face. “I wasn’t risking my life. I was armed.”
    This time he didn’t restrain his laughter. “Lady Rosalind, if you think you could have held off a gypsy thief with that relic of a sword for more than five seconds, you’re a fool. You couldn’t even have held me off with it if I hadn’t let you.”
    “Hadn’t let me?” She snatched up the sword again and brandished it in the air. “You think not, do you?”
    How could he resist the challenge? Although prideful indignation swelled her chest, it was too lovely a chest to be exposed to the cruelties of any real thief she might encounter someday. The woman lacked common sense—she needed lessons in the world’s dangers.
    With the speed he’d honed during his days consorting with smugglers, he ducked under the sword and pivoted behind her, chaining her waist with his arm while his free hand wrenched the sword from her grip. Then he pressed the blade to the pulse in her neck and echoed her words, “I think not.” He lowered his voice and bent his head so close his lips brushed her ear. “Never challenge a thief, my lady, unless you’re well prepared to best him.”
    The rosewater scent in her hair clouded his thinking, not to mention the feel of her soft, trembling belly against his forearm and the curve of her waist beneath his hand. Insanely he wanted to inch his hand lower, to find the secrets between her thighs and fondle them until she trembled with pleasure instead of fear.
    The thought further inflamed the part of him that shouldn’t rear its lusty head. Not now, not with one of Swanlea’s daughters.
    Eager to make his point and escape her tempting body, he added, “You have more to worry about than the contents of your father’s desk when you confront a man alone, especially as you are dressed. ‘Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold,’ you know.”
    She took a shaky breath, then whispered, “ As You Like It .”
    “So you agree with me.”
    “No, you blasted idiot,” she hissed. “ As You Like It , the play by Shakespeare. That’s what you quoted.”
    He was so astonished that he lowered the sword. That’s when she struck, jabbing her elbow into his ribs with uncanny force.
    Howling in pain, he released her. “Goddamn it tohell!” He doubled over, the sword slipping from his hand to thud on the carpeted floor. A string of words leapt from his lips that he wouldn’t normally speak in front of any woman, especially a lady. By God, the witch knew just where to place her blows! And she had an arm on her, too.
    As Griff clutched his abdomen, she darted forward to snatch up the sword again, then backed away warily toward the desk. The Swanlea coat of arms on the wall behind her mocked him.
    “Since you seem faintly familiar with Shakespeare,” she remarked, “you will understand me when I say that no man, gypsy thief or man of affairs, will ever pick my lock and take the treasure of my honor by force.”
    He straightened stiffly. “ The Tempest ?” he croaked, sure he recognized her paraphrase from somewhere.
    “ Cymbeline .” One eyebrow arched upward. “But that was a good guess.”
    “So was yours about As You Like It .”
    “Mine was not a guess. I know As You Like It as well as I know my own name.”
    “Do you?” Since he lacked Daniel’s glib tongue around women, he generally relied on the bard for a few standard compliments. He’d used that particular quote with many women, but none had ever guessed its source.
    And to think that she knew it. How unusual. Of course, any woman who’d use force to protect her “honor” was unusual.
    Rubbing his tender ribs, he nodded toward the sword. “You realize I was only trying to make a point, not ‘take the treasure of your honor.’”
    “If you say so.” The sword jutted out from her fisted