A Duke's Wicked Kiss (Entangled Select) Read Online Free PDF

he’d thought pretty ten years ago. Now, she was beautiful. The years seemed to have added a layer of inner strength and maturity that shone throughout her entire countenance.
    Thoughts of Laura dying in his arms raced through his mind—of their babe in the shroud beside her. Guilt, for his body reacting toward another woman, ran his blood cold. He sure as hell didn’t need more guilt heaped on top of what already weighed him down. There were layers enough to share with every person at the table and still have leftovers. Three goddamned years of hearing Laura’s last words that she’d never forgive him for causing her death…nearly a lifetime of hearing his brother, Edward, then five years old, begging John not to leave him alone with their drunken father. And then there was James’s death—he could’ve prevented that, too. Christ, when would these bloody nightmares end?
    At the sound of Lady Marguerite addressing him, he realized he was staring right through Suri. Her unblinking emerald eyes scorched his flesh.
    “Excuse me, Lady Marguerite. I fear I was momentarily distracted. Did you say something?”
    “I wondered if you’d received that shipment of the Cocks’s Reading Sauce you mentioned at our last dinner. I fear Worcestershire makes a rather poor substitute on fish, at least to my taste, yet it is all one can seem to come by in these parts.”
    “Not as yet, madam. I’ll send a case over when it arrives.” He should have stayed home.
    Mrs. Abernathy placed her hand high on his thigh this time. “Do send a few this way, Your Grace. Better yet, I would be pleased to have you deliver them personally.”
    That cuts it. John placed his fingers over hers and squeezed, just enough to grind bone against bone as he removed her hand from his knee. “I’ll send my butler.”
    Her cheeks mottled. She turned to her left and began a conversation with her neighbor.
    Locksley snorted. “Finished with her, eh?”
    John ignored the urge to set the man straight. He’d never started with the woman. He glanced at Suri. Was that a bit of humor running through her? He leaned back to study her, let his hand drop to his cat and stroked.
    Shahira began to purr.
    Suri’s face lit up as though sunshine had washed through the room. “I say, Marguerite, his cat does indeed remind one of a rackety steam engine.”
    He regarded Lady Marguerite. So, they had discussed him? He scratched behind Shahira’s ears. “Now that’s a description, isn’t it girl?” The purring grew louder.
    Suri laughed. “You said she churrs when she likes someone. What makes her purr?”
    “Contentment.” He separated the palm leaves on his plate, extracted a piece of baked fish, and held it before Shahira’s nose. The cat’s ears shot up, but she sat quietly waiting with the flesh dangling mere inches from her mouth.
    Suri stood and leaned over her sister.
    John averted his eyes from a neckline that dipped lower. “Take it,” he murmured to Shahira.
    The cat opened her mouth, and with the delicateness of a house cat, took the fish between her teeth without touching John’s fingers.
    “Oh, my,” Suri exclaimed.
    Marguerite stood. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Suri. Switch places with me lest I suffocate from the way you hang over me.” She looked to John. “England only offers livestock, not jungle cats, for my sister to dote upon.”
    Suri hastened to Marguerite’s vacated seat while a footman switched their place settings. “What would make her roar?”
    It was all John could do to keep his eyes fixed on Shahira. He stroked her fur. “Cheetahs can growl when they are upset, but unlike other big cats, they are incapable of roaring. Mostly, they hiss and spit if they don’t care for someone.”
    “May I touch her?”
    Bloody hell? His gaze shot to Suri’s. Was the woman completely irresponsible? Or, God forbid, daft? “My hand is the only human touch she knows.”
    “Oh.” Suri studied the cat for a moment. “How did you come by