Adele Ashworth Read Online Free PDF Page A

beneath her petticoats from his formal, seemingly innocent question, and she clutched her wounded hand with the other, growing noticeably discomfited.
    “Do—do you mind terribly if we sit?” she murmured at last.
    He continued to stare at her for a moment, then groaned and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “The coffee’s ready by now.”
    “Coffee is vile,” she countered without thinking.
    He looked back at her sharply and gave her a cynical smile. “It’s coffee or nothing.”
    “Coffee would be lovely,” she returned very quickly, not wanting to chance him throwing her out for ungracious behavior.
    “Thorn.” He motioned with his hand to a corner of the room where the dog quickly moved to lie with his eyes closed, as if he hadn’t a thought in the world other than much-needed sleep.
    “He’s certainly a large animal,” she said pleasantly.
    The right side of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly as he continued to regard her openly. That did nothing but increase the already unbearable tension. “The coffee, sir?”
    “I think we know each other well enough for you to call me Jonathan,” he drawled.
    Natalie didn’t know what to say to that, and she was truly beginning to feel not just nervous but extremely uneasy. What was she thinking, walking into his home as if she lived there herself, with no chaperon and at daybreak no less? Suddenly she wished to heaven she were tucked beneath her downy quilt coverlet, or even walking down the aisle of St. George’s to marry the boring Geoffrey Blythe. Any banal existence would be better than this.
    He must have noticed her apprehension, the thoughts of fleeing outlined on her face, for at that moment he relaxed.
    “It’s all right, Natalie,” he soothed, motioning with his head for her to follow. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
    Strangely, she moved toward him without a thought to the contrary, still clutching her now-burning palm with her cloak, hoping the pain would subside and she could get her business done without disclosing the incident. She didn’t want him to think her an idiot for touching a sword with no consideration as to the consequences.
    She paid little attention to where they were heading, finding it difficult to take her eyes off his bare back as he walked in front of her. He was firm, marvelously muscled, and watching the mere sleekness of his frame, the tightness of his backside, made her feel even hotter in her layers of clothing. Suddenly the absurdity of the situation made her softly laugh.
    He stopped short, turning at the unexpected sound, and the movement caused her to tumble into his chest. Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her against him, to keep her from falling, she supposed, and at that moment her mirth faded as her heartbeat drastically increased from nothing more than his warm touch.
    “What’s so funny?” he asked, amused.
    “I . . .” Nervousness overcame her again as she peered into his eyes, ever so slowly becoming aware of the fact that her breasts were now crushed up against his chest.
    She straightened the best she could. “It just occurred to me that my mother would die if she knew you were wearing almost nothing at all.”
    “Your mother would die if she knew you were here, Natalie,” he corrected thickly, tightening his grip on her back even as his free hand came forward to pull the hood of her cloak from her head. Before she could again put a reasonable distance between them, he reached behind her neck and pulled her long hair from beneath the soft wool, allowing it to fall freely down her back.
    Natalie’s eyes widened. The gesture was far too intimate, and she wanted to kick herself for not taking the time to put her unruly curls in pins. Without thinking, she placed both hands on his chest, pushing against him to free herself.
    His gaze hardened, and he released her, turning abruptly to continue walking to the back of his town house. After only several steps, however, he stopped once more