A Precious Jewel Read Online Free PDF

and had borne Priscilla a grudge ever since. Clearly she had liked Sir Gerald, too.
    What if he went to someone else tonight? Angela, perhaps? Or Theresa?
    Priscilla bit her lip. Her hand dropped from the doorknob.
    But before she could return to her chair, there was a tap on her door and a maid informed her that Sir Gerald Stapleton was awaiting her in the blue salon belowstairs.
    Priscilla smiled at him as she entered the room a few minutes later, holding out one hand to him instead of the usual two. She held a handkerchief to her face with the other, as if she had just been dabbing at her nose with it.
    “Sir Gerald,” she said. “How lovely to see you again.”
    “Is it, Priss?” he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “You have a cold?”
    “No,” she said, lowering her hand and turning away from the light. “Will you come upstairs, sir?”
    He followed her up, telling her about a great to-do he had just witnessed in the street when two vehicles had collided and ten others had stopped for their passengers to watch the show and offer their opinions on who was to blame.
    “I hope no one was hurt,” she said.
    “I believe a lady had her bonnet massacred,” he said. “But there was no injury more serious than that.”
    Priscilla closed her door and stayed facing away from him. “Will you unbutton me, sir?” she asked.
    “I think I may be going away,” he said abruptly as his hands worked at her back. “Tomorrow or the next day.”
    “Into the country?” she said, her voice warm while her heart plummeted painfully. “How lovely for you, sir. May is the loveliest month in the country, I always think.”
    “Yes,” he said, his hands easing her dress off her shoulders. “Into the country. Tomorrow, probably.”
    She stepped out of her dress without turning around, and crossed to the bed, where she lay watching him undress, her head turned to the side so that half of her face was hidden by the pillow.
    For the last time, she thought, smiling at him. Her throat and her chest were aching with a raw pain. So much for fantasies. She had been right when she had told herself that certain fantasies were dangerous and not to be encouraged. Not that she had seemed to have any control over this particular one.
    She lay with her eyes closed a few minutes later, keeping herself still and relaxed as he liked her to be, though not as passive as he perhaps thought her. She had never been quite passive. She had always concentrated on being soft and warm and receptive for him. It had not been difficult since she had fallen in love with him.
    He moved his head suddenly and she winced away from him.
    He lifted himself on his forearms and looked down at her. She smiled up at him, filling her eyes with warmth as she did with all her clients, though with him it had always been as much unconscious as conscious. He stilled in her, his eyes roaming her face.
    “I am sorry, sir,” she said. “A little toothache. Let me continue to please you.”
    He lowered his forehead to her shoulder and drew a few deep breaths before removing himself from her body and from her bed. She watched him walk to the empty fireplace and stare down at it for a whole minute, drawing deep breaths before turning to take up his clothes and dress himself.
    Priscilla swallowed. She was unaccountably frightened.
    He crossed to the bed when he was dressed and stood looking down at her. She had not covered herself. His eyes moved over her, and he touched her thigh with two fingers. She glanced down and saw the bruise that had developed since she had cleaned herself earlier.
    “Where is your dressing gown?” he asked, looking about him.
    “In the top drawer,” she said, indicating the small chest beside her bed.
    He opened the drawer and drew the garment out. “Sit up,” he said, and when she did so, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, he held it for her to slip her arms inside. She stood and wrapped it about herself and sat down