A Little Bit Wild Read Online Free PDF

his nose as if the sculptor's chisel had slipped. His cheekbones were high and broad, and the wicked angle of his eyebrows added menace to his masculine features. That and his unrelenting largeness. . .
    When he walked toward her, Marissa snuck a peek at his thighs. The muscles strained at his trousers in a vulgar display. He was made for the battlefield or the shipyard, not the ballroom.
    Still, when he offered his arm, she took it, aware of a hint of spice in his scent.
    His arm was too solid beneath her hand. More like the wood of a banister than the flesh of a man. She supposed that might be comforting if she knew him, if he were charged with the duty of caring for and protecting her. But he was a stranger, so she felt nothing more than a vague anxiety and kept her fingers light against his sleeve.
    "I apologize," she murmured as he led her through the doors of the breakfast room. "I'm sorry I did not know you earlier."
    "You needn't apologize. I didn't expect I'd drawn your notice."
    Marissa glanced around the room, noting that one guest was leaving, and only one other, her elderly Great Aunt Ophelia remained. Marissa leaned a little closer to Mr. Bertrand. "I don't understand why you're doing this."
    "Are you not hungry?"
    "I mean this," she protested, waving an impatient hand. She lowered her voice. "Why did you volunteer to court me?"
    He stopped their slow progress toward the buffet and angled his body toward her. "Because I like you."
    "You just said yourself that you don't even know me!"
    "No, Miss York. I said you didn't know me. But I have liked you from the moment we met."
    Shocked, Marissa drew back so that she could more easily see his expression. His mouth offered her that crooked smile again, as if he knew some secret about her. And so he did. "You have never even asked me to dance."
    "Would you have said yes?"
    No. She knew she would have found an excuse not to dance with him, and a sharp stab of guilt left her angry. "Are you saying you were too cowardly to ask, for fear I might say no?"
    "On the contrary. I was brave enough not to interfere with your clear affection for graceful young boys."
    "My..." Marissa stared at him, her lips parted in shock. Surely he couldn't mean that he'd noticed her secret. No, he only meant that she liked to dance with elegant gentlemen.
    Just as she snapped her mouth closed, Mr. Bertrand winked and tilted his head toward the sideboard. "Shall we break our fast, Miss York?"
    Relieved to have time to puzzle out this strange conversation, she nodded. But her relief faded a bit when he picked up a plate and gestured her ahead of him.
    He was on his best behavior, it seemed, and meant to serve her breakfast. A lovely effort, except that gentlemen were notoriously stingy when it came to filling her plate. She was a lady. Her appetite was meant to be dainty.
    It wasn't.
    But she look a deep breath and pasted on a smile because ladies did not snatch plates from gentlemen's hands in order to get another ration of bacon. She could always sneak back for more when he went riding with the other men.
    He stood still next to her, both hands holding the plate at waist-level. She glanced toward the kipper fork.
    "Please," he murmured, nodding his head toward the dish. "I wouldn't presume to know your tastes just yet. Allow me to play footman." He held the plate out to clarify.
    Marissa's heart beat fast in surprise as she carefully served herself one kipper and then a tiny spoonful of stewed apples. When she reached the bacon, she slid two slices onto the plate, then darted a look at him.
    Mr. Bertrand raised an eyebrow, offering that same secret smile. As if he knew her.
    Or perhaps that was just the way a smile looked on a mouth so unfortunately wide.
    Marissa bit her lip and added three more slices, staring at the blunt thickness of his thumb as she did so. When she looked up again, his smile was wider.
    What an odd man. She served herself more generously with the remaining dishes.
    He