A Tailor-Made Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

taunted in a sugar-sweet voice.
    The brim of his hat lifted, allowing her to see his scowl. Satisfaction surged through her as her foot pounded down on the next step.
    A crack shouted like thunder in her ear as the board beneath her gave way, and with a surprised squeak, she plummeted feet-first through the yawning hole.

C HAPTER 3
    J.T. didn’t take time to think. In a single motion, he dropped the trunk and vaulted over the railing. His boots crashed into the earth with a jolt that surged through his bent knees and into his thighs.
    Springing out of his crouch, he ran forward, praying that Miss Richards wasn’t hurt too badly. But instead of coming upon a pile of crushed blue fluff as he expected, he found himself eye level with a pair of delicate ankles pumping madly through a froth of white petticoats.
    Her skirt hung unevenly, hiked up somewhat on the side closest to him. Her black stockings stood out against the white petticoats like coal on snow. The ribbed lines that started above the top of her shoe drew his gaze over the gentle curve of her calf before disappearing into the flurry of white cotton that surrounded them.
    J.T. turned away, a cough rising in his throat. The woman was dangling from a second-story staircase, and he was ogling her legs. What kind of a lecher was he? J.T. tugged his hat down and cleared his throat, wishing he could clear his mind as easily.
    She must have heard him, for the kicking stilled.
    “Mr. Tucker?”
    Her voice sounded breathless. Taking firm control of his wayward thoughts, he stepped aside to better assess her predicament. She must have managed to grab hold of the top step as she fell, for her head, shoulders, and arms were blocked from his view.
    “I’m here, Miss Richards.” He cleared his throat again, despite the fact that his mouth had gone bone dry.
    “I seem to have dropped my key.”
    A quiet chuckle escaped him before he could stuff it back inside. He shook his head, unable to tame the smile that lingered on his lips.
    “Yes, ma’am. I believe you have. Looks like you might have dropped one or two other things, as well.”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    He chanced another look up, careful to steer his gaze along appropriate paths. Was it his imagination, or was she hanging a bit lower than she had been a minute ago?
    “Um . . . Mr. Tucker?” His name came out pinched, and he thought he heard a grunt as she shifted.
    “Yes, ma’am?”
    “I know it wasn’t part of our original agreement . . .” A second noise interrupted. Definitely a grunt. And he swore he could see the edge of her collar peeking out beneath the wooden slats now. She was slipping. His heart rammed against his ribs.
    “But might you be willing to catch me? I don’t think I can—”
    He dove back under her, her quiet gasp ringing in his ears as loud as any scream. Bracing himself against the impact, he scooped her legs into the crook of his left arm before they hit the ground and caught her upper body with his right. He clasped her close to his chest as he fought to stay on his feet. Once his boots were firmly planted, he looked down into her face, concerned to find her eyes squeezed shut.
    “Are you all right?”
    The lines around her eyelids softened, and her lashes fluttered upward. The twilight blue of her eyes held him captive.
    “I . . . I’m fine, I think. Thank you, Mr. Tucker.”
    She blinked and dipped her chin, breaking the connection. As he lowered her feet to the ground, his chin knocked against her already-askew bonnet. The thing sat lopsided on her head, and one of the flowers from around the crown had abandoned its place to drape drunkenly over her forehead. He reached for it and tried to stick it back where it belonged, but the stubborn stem refused to cooperate. Fed up, he plucked the ornery bloom straight off of its mooring and shoved it at its owner.
    “Here.”
    A hint of a smile played over Miss Richards’s lips as she accepted it from him. “Thank you.”
    She must