Between the Duke and the Deep Blue Sea Read Online Free PDF Page A

“He saw me fall and he left me to die.”
    He slowly stood up.
    “Where are you going?”
    He repositioned himself behind her and grasped her shoulders to ease the stiffness. “Can you feel your arms? How long were you waiting for him?”
    “I don’t know. I think it all happened about half past four.”
    God, she’d been there for nearly three hours.
    “How far away is . . .” He stopped.
    “At most a quarter hour by carriage. And no, allow me to assure you there is no possible reason for his delay.” Her voice rose. “You see, I’ve had a quiet afternoon to reflect on every possible impediment. And there is only one reason you are here instead of Lawrence.”
    “Lawrence?”
    “My husband. The Earl of Paxton.”
    “You’re a countess ?” The moment he said it, he regretted it. Oh, not the words, the tone. He braced for the worst.
    She said not a word. Instead she bowed her head.
    No. Oh, not tears. Anything but tears. Well, the day was all shot to hell as it was. He plucked a handkerchief from his discarded coat nearby and came around to face her, on his haunches.
    She dabbed at the caked gray clay on her face. “I am not crying.”
    “Of course not. There’s a bit of, um, chalk in your hair.”
    She shook her head and a spray of dust flew all about.
    He bit back a smile. It was unkind to find humor in any part of this unfortunate lady’s circumstances. “All right. Here is what I propose,” he continued. “Let us get you to the magistrate of the parish. He will sort this out and mete out the justice your delightful husband deserves. No one is above the laws of the land, no matter what his station.”
    “He is the magistrate.”
    “Then I shall take you to the neighboring parish. Surely—”
    “Stop, I beg you,” she interrupted dryly. “Lawrence has ties to every man of importance in all of Cornwall. They ride and hunt together, dine together, drink to excess together . . . ” She flailed an arm in frustration.
    “But—” He should know better than to press the point. “All right. What do you suggest?”
    “You’d be willing to help me?”
    “Why, you cut me to the quick, madam. Have I not proven myself a prince among men?”
    “Um, well . . . yes. And no .”
    “Explain, if you please.”
    “You did come through in the heat of the moment. But . . . if you’ll pardon me, you have a look about you that speaks the opposite of everything you say. And . . .”
    “Yes?”
    “Well, I don’t trust handsome gentlemen any longer.”
    “Flattery will get you everywhere, madam.”
    She hesitated. “So, you’ll help me, then? Really?”
    “Alexander Barclay—your servant.” That ringing in his head, which always preceded regret, sounded in his ears. “So . . . what precisely did you have in mind?”
    “Do you have a pistol?” She studied him with her big, round blue eyes and a smile that made him nervous. “Or, perhaps, a lovely little dagger?”

Chapter 2
     
    I t was beyond maddening that this overly handsome gentleman with harshly hewn features had managed to keep any and all lethal objects out of her reach. Actually, it hadn’t been all that difficult. The trial of hanging on the cliff for hours, and now riding pillion on his skittish, ill-tempered stallion, had left her near to dead as they made their way toward Penzance, twenty miles southwest.
    At first, he’d been reluctant to take her with him, but then he’d seemed even more reluctant to leave her to her own ideas. To his credit, he’d grumbled a lot less than his horse when she’d insisted on bringing her dog, who trotted behind them.
    “So where exactly is this new residence of yours?” she mumbled, her head jostling against his back. She prayed she would not see anyone she knew just yet. She needed time to think. Not that she and Lawrence frequented the seaside town very often; it was just a little too far afield of the Paxton estate and they typically visited the burgeoning port of Falmouth since