A Perfect Hero Read Online Free PDF

attempted to step back; it appeared he had other intentions.
    His hold on her tightened. He gave a slight shake of his head. His grip was not hurtful, but Julianna was acutely aware of those strong, mas culine hands curled around her shoulders.
    “You were alone in the coach,” he said abruptly. “Why?”
    Julianna looked him straight in the eye. “I am of an age, sir, where I am hardly in need of a chaperone.”
    “And do you always travel without a maid?”
    “My maid was ill. I sent her back to London,” she said levelly.
    “And where were you going?”
    Julianna lifted her chin. “To Bath,” she told him evenly. “To my home.”
    “Who awaits you there?” He shot off ques tions, one after the other, like a firing squad.
    “My husband,” she said quickly.
    His eyes narrowed. Before she could stop him, he snatched up her hand and held it high.
    “You wear no ring nor have you ever,” he stated flatly. “You, lady, are neither wed nor betrothed.”
    Dismay shot through her. And yet he was wrong, she decided wildly. She’d once worn Thomas’s betrothal ring . . .
    “I will ask you once more. Who awaits you there?”
    Panic raced through her. Julianna tried to dis guise it. “I told you, my husb—”
    “My dear lady,” he stated very deliberately, “I am a man of instinct. Why, my very life depends on it! Indeed, my very life depends on what I read in people’s faces—and what I read in yours tells me that you are a liar. It tells me that no one is ex pecting you. So pray do not insult me by seeking to deceive me.”
    Julianna felt as if she’d been hit in the chest by a tremendous weight. By Jove, he was right. Peggy would surely think that she had already ar rived in Bath. The servants in Bath did not know to expect her arrival. If either of her brothers called on her, or inquired as to her whereabouts, they would be told she was in Bath.
    No one knew where she was. No one .
    “What is your name?”
    Her mouth opened. Her first instinct was to haughtily inform him her brother was the Marquess of Thurston; it was hastily revised. If he knew her real name, he might easily demand a ransom—it was altogether possible he could have her killed while collecting it!
    Her mind was racing, yet she was amazingly calm, even brave, as she answered evenly. “I am Miss Julianna Clare.” It was true; the omission of her surname was deliberate. Holding her breath, she forced her eyes to his. She was no fool. If she looked away, he would take it as a sign she was lying.
    “And yours, sir? What is your name?”
    Her response was much more swift than his. He had yet to release her hand, but rather gave a little bow over it. Manners from the Magpie! She wasn’t sure if she was outraged or impressed.
    “You may call me Dane.”
    Neither one of them fooled the other. Julianna was very certain the lack of his surname was just as calculated.
    He straightened to his full height. Another cal culated move, she suspected. Despite her determi nation not to be cowed, there was a sudden sharpness in his regard that gave her pause. There was something unrefined and unrestrained about this man, something that suddenly made her mouth go dry and her heart go all a-tumble.
    She looked up—forever it seemed—until she felt as if her neck would surely crack! A man as big as her brothers was a rare man indeed. To struggle would prove futile. He was a large man, a strong man, a bold man. At such close range, he was even more imposing than he had appeared last night, wearing a mask and holding his pis tols. His features were sharply arresting, his jaw squarely defined, his nose carved in perfect balance between the sculpted planes of his cheekbones. He was too masculine to be considered truly handsome—an artist would have tried to soften those uncompromising features. But somehow his hard face was the perfect setting for those lavish eyes, their clear gold brilliance enhanced by thick black lashes.
    Her reaction to him was