Barbara Pierce Read Online Free PDF Page A

skin heat under his clothing, and the trickle of perspiration as it collected along his lower spine. By God, he had no intention of being undone by a few lit torches. If word of this reached his friends, he would never hear the end of it.
    “What will you have me do, Miss Winlow?” he asked, appalled at his behavior when he realized he was reaching up to tug on his cravat. “My skills as a juggler are abysmal, I can assure you.”
    “Never fear, my lord. I would never demand more than you would give willingly.” She moved in front of him and offered him her hands with her palms facing upward.
    He stepped forward, briefly wondering if the lady was speaking of more than this brief opportunity to humiliate him in front of his neighbors. The urge to loosen his cravat was as insistent as a hard-to-reach itch. The fire crackled and hissed with each practiced throw behind Miss Winlow. Entwining
his fingers with hers, Ram was startled by the strength of her grasp.
    “Did I happen to mention that I prefer my fires in a hearth?” he asked, his gaze following the arcing flames.
    A glint of comprehension dimmed her smile. He felt like an utter fool for being so transparent to a complete stranger. Ram wanted to evoke any emotion other than pity in her lovely blue eyes. He tried to release her fingers, but she would not allow it. In fact, she tugged him closer. Ram raised a quizzical brow at her brazen actions.
    Tilting her chin in a challenging fashion, she said, “Come now, Lord Ramscar.” Miss Winlow made a soft chiding noise with her tongue and coaxed him to take another step forward. “You seem like a gentleman who likes to dazzle the ladies. What could turn a lady’s head more than proving that you would walk through fire for her?”
    Swallowing thickly, he focused on Miss Winlow’s face and matched her measured steps. His initial appraisal of her was that she was pretty. He was wrong. On closer inspection, Miss Winlow was captivating. There was an inner radiance that enhanced her natural beauty. It added a healthy glow to her cheeks and a merry twinkle to her eyes as she beckoned him to pursue her. He was close enough to
her now that he could count the gold flecks floating on a fathomless sea of blue. There were three flecks in her right eye and one star-shaped fleck in her left.
    Ram was startled by the sudden burst of applause around them. It took him a few seconds to realize they were cheering for him. Miss Winlow stepped away from him and extended her elegant arm toward him, encouraging the guests to continue their clapping. He had been so focused on her face, he had not noticed she had positioned them between the two jugglers. The spinning flames seemed to leap out of each man’s hands as they expertly caught and returned their dangerous missiles. Ram shivered despite the overly warm room.
    “I-I had not realized—” He did not bother finishing the thought. Ram had not confessed his slight aversion to fire to his friends; he certainly was not going to reveal his fears to her.
    Miss Winlow gave him a genuine smile, and the sheer power of it clouted him like a solid blow to his sternum. He felt his chest constrict as the air was squeezed from his lungs.
    “Now, I am flattered, Lord Ramscar.” She hooked her arm in a friendly fashion, and they strolled away from the jugglers. The level of relief he experienced heightened with each step. “Take your bow, my lord,” she coaxed him with a nudge.

    Feeling foolish, Ram gave an abbreviated bow and raised his right hand to silence the clapping around him. He must have been bewitched to permit Miss Winlow to lead him in an act of buffoonery. His sister, Meredith, had been wise to remain at home this evening.
    “You have talent, my lord,” Miss Winlow mused aloud. “I vow, no one noticed your discomfort earlier.” She inclined her head as she curtsied.
    “Except for you, Miss Winlow,” he countered, his tone edged with a hint of unexpected resentment. Since others