An Officer but No Gentleman Read Online Free PDF

chosen this interlude for himself? There was no contract expecting him to perform. Perhaps the freedom had spurred him on? Or perhaps it was the woman herself; a beautiful, well-bred woman had wanted him for himself, not for his notoriety, not for the fulfillment of some need to impress her friends or any of the other reasons London’s ladies sought him for their paids. Elowyn had no inkling of who he was or what he could do to a woman and she’d wanted him, anyway. It was heady knowledge for a man of his humble origins to think a woman of her quality would freely choose him, that he could belong.
    There was the old ghost again. Grahame faced himself in the mirror over the basin, staring hard at the primal reflection. The military had made him rugged but it had made him ragged, too. He traced the thin line running toward his shoulder, one scar of many that had contributed to the man he was today—a leader of men, a lover of women. But still, deep inside, that man harbored the needs of the boy who had never wanted more than to belong, somewhere.
    The military had been such a place for him. The camaraderie he’d built with his men had filled that need until they’d been scattered, proving that even the hard-forged bonds of shared misery and loss were temporary. There’d been a sense of belonging at Argosy House with Channing and the boys, where he was accepted among them, even if he hadn’t been of the same birth. They’d formed bonds based on laughter and escapades and they, too, were free to scatter as the world beckoned. D’Arcy had already gone. He wanted more than that, more than temporary friendships. He wanted an unbreakable bond with someone, something that could not be torn apart by distance or circumstance.
    It was his ultimate fantasy, a fantasy he played out nightly with London’s women, the fantasy that he belonged in their world. Tonight that fantasy had deepened dangerously. He could not have Elowyn Bagshaw any more than he could have any of the other women. With Elowyn the end was so obviously near. When they reached Vienna, all would be over. There wasn’t even an illusion, a hope of permanence.
    Grahame jerked, startled by the sudden knock on his door. “Come.” He reached for a towel in a belated effort to address his shirtless dishabille, his hair still damp from his ablutions. Chances were it didn’t matter. His visitor was most likely Christopher, come to report on the horses and the wagons. Still, he knew he’d grabbed the towel because he hadn’t given up all hope.
    “Hello, Grahame, it looks like you were expecting me.” The sultry voice at the door sent a shot of white-hot desire to his groin. Her eyes flashed to his crotch where a new arousal stirred. Dammit! His trousers were undone. He’d forgotten and it was too late to do anything about it now except to let her watch the effect she had on him come to life.
    His eyes drank in the sight of her—the white, satin robe belted at her waist, the fabric hugging the full curves of her breasts, the chestnut hair spilling seductively over one shoulder. Then it hit him—she’d crossed the hallway dressed like that.
    “Shut the door, Elowyn. I can’t have you traipsing around the hall like that,” Grahame growled. “Have you forgotten the guests downstairs?”
    Elowyn shrugged and stepped inside, holding up a white, ceramic ramekin in her hand. Grahame recognized it as the one from dinner, the one placed next to the pie they’d never gotten around to eating. “I came to tell you, if you’re in the mood, dessert’s on me.”
    Good God, the woman was a temptress! He could see her in his mind’s eye, a naked Elowyn streaked with crème fraîche and laid out before him. Her eyes roamed low, a wicked smile on her lips as she watched his arousal complete.
    Maybe he could not have her forever; maybe she could no more fulfill his need to belong than any of his other attempts, but he could have it tonight, and the next and the next and