Between the Devil and Desire Read Online Free PDF Page A

that abrasiveness didn’t influence his temper. Hitching up a corner of his mouth, he turned back toward her. “What’s the matter, Duchess? Have all sorts of machines designed to give you sexual pleasure hidden away in there?”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re on about.”
    He studied her for a moment, her black attire, the proper way she held herself…“Sadly, you probably don’t.”
    Innocence had never appealed to him. He walked out of the room and continued down the long hallway.
    â€œAll the bedchambers are the same,” she said from behind him. “I don’t see why you need to—”
    He reached for another door.
    â€œI forbid you to go into that room,” she stated emphatically.
    Looking over his shoulder, he winked at her. “Never forbid me, Duchess. It’ll only make me do it.”
    He barged into the room. A young brown-haired, brown-eyed woman, obviously a servant, gasped and came out of the chair she was sitting in beside the bed. A young boy abruptly sat up, the covers falling to his waist, his blond hair tousled, his golden eyes wide.
    The duchess brushed past Jack, sat on the bed, and took the boy protectively into her arms. It irritatedthe devil out of Jack that she assumed the boy needed protecting from him, that she expected him to hurt the lad.
    â€œThe heir?” Jack asked flatly.
    The duchess nodded. “Yes.”
    â€œHenry, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow old are you, lad?”
    â€œHe’s five,” the duchess said.
    â€œIs he mute?”
    â€œNo, of course not.”
    â€œThen why didn’t you let him speak? I asked the question of him.”
    â€œYou’re terrifying him.”
    â€œAm I?” He studied the boy. He was as slightly built as his mother, as pale. His eyes were huge and round, but Jack saw more curiosity within them than fear. “Are you afraid of me, lad?”
    The boy peered up at his mother.
    â€œDon’t look to your mother for the answer, lad. Look to yourself.”
    â€œDo not take that tone with him,” the duchess commanded. “You are not yet his guardian.”
    Jack didn’t know whether to envy the boy for the protectiveness of his mother—a protectiveness he wished his own mother had bestowed on him—or to pity him because she was raising him to be a milksop. By the age of six, Jack could survive the streets by cunning, cleverness, and nimble fingers. He’d not been afraid to take chances. He’d learned how to dodge those who wanted to catch him. He’d been quick on his feet, but even quicker with his mind.
    â€œSkill will get ye only so far, boy, but thinkin’ will be wot keeps ye alive,” Feagan had told him.
    Learning the tricks of the trade had given him confidence, which had led to success, which had made him daring and fearless. He’d gotten where he was because he’d survived. He wasn’t convinced this lad could wipe his own nose. Was that the reason the duke was turning his care over to Jack?
    Jack had first met Lovingdon on a spring day in the Earl of Claybourne’s garden. Jack had been left with the impression that the duke was a sad man. Years later, the duke had visited Jack’s club a number of times, but nothing memorable had come of the occasions. At least nothing memorable from Jack’s point of view. Had the duke noticed something in Jack’s demeanor that indicated he had the wherewithal to be an effective guardian over this lad who was obviously mollycoddled? But even then, to give Jack everything he owned that wasn’t entailed? Jack was suspicious by nature, and his mind was screaming out warnings, insisting something was amiss. He just couldn’t figure out what, precisely.
    Jack turned on his heel and headed toward the stairs.
    â€œWhere are you going?” the duchess asked, her shoes tapping rapidly behind him.
    Lord, she was quick to follow. If his legs