Captive Read Online Free PDF

as Charlotte could tell, the earl could take care of himself. After all, she was the one with the bruises.
    Charlotte had discounted all the stories she had heard about the earl since she had arrived at Denbigh Castle. How he had killed a man simply because he didn’t like the way he tied his neck cloth. That he was so dangerous with his fists that no one would go into the ring with him at Gentleman Jackson’s salon. That his fencing bouts at Angelo’s had resulted in serious injury to at least three young bucks of the
ton
who had wanted to try their hand at besting him. And that he was an unbeatable whip, risked life and limb to race his cattle, and always won.
    Now that she had met him, she believed every word.
    Worse than all of that, in her mind, however, was the way he ignored his family. He had elderly, sickly grandparents that he rarely visited, and his younger sister, Olivia, had been left alone in the country to wither away into an old maid. It was no wonder, Charlotte thought, that his bride had killed herself rather than marry the man.
    But she could see why Lady Alice had been attracted to Denbigh in the first place. His eyes were startling to behold, such a light, silvery gray they had made her breath catch in her throat the firsttime he looked at her. He had an aristocratic nose and angular cheekbones. His mouth was wide and generous, though he kept it pressed flat most of the time in a grim line. Even more impressive was the man himself. His tightly fitted jacket emphasized his broad shoulders, while his flat stomach and strong thighs were shown to advantage in skintight buckskins. Oh, he was attractive, all right.
    She wasn’t going to let that sway her opinion of him. What good were looks when the man himself was so flawed? Imagine, ordering his sister around! Livy obeyed him like some English spaniel. Charlotte would never come to heel.
    The Earl of Denbigh had finally met his match. It was time he learned to treat his family better. His servants, too, for that matter. And he could use a little instruction in the proper care and consideration of a ward. Oh, yes, Charlotte Edgerton had a few lessons to teach the arrogant earl.
    “Come on, Livy,” Charlotte said, when Mrs. Tinsworthy was finished with her ministrations. “Let’s go talk to your brother.”
    “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Charlie. He’s in the salon with Lady Frockman. Besides, you don’t have Lion’s permission to leave this room.”
    Charlotte gave a derisive, unladylike snort. “I don’t see anyone to stop me.”
    “Lion won’t appreciate being interrupted,” Olivia said.
    “I don’t care,” Charlotte replied. “I didn’t want to be locked in my room. Did your brother care? No, he locked me in, anyway.” She took a few steps toward the door, but Olivia held back. “Are you coming?”
    “No. I’m not.”
    “All right, Livy, have it your way. I’ll beard the Lion by myself.” She grinned at her play on words.
    Livy wasn’t the least amused. Her brow furrowed anxiously, and her eyes looked worried. “Good luck, Charlie.”
    “Are you suggesting I’ll need it?” Charlotte asked.
    “Oh, yes. More than luck. Courage. And fortitude. And a stiff British upper lip.”
    Charlotte laughed as she headed out the door. “You’re forgetting I have something much better than a stiff British upper lip.”
    “What’s that?”
    “A strong American backbone.”

2
    Charlotte shoved open the door to the earl’s study without knocking, intending to confront him—and gasped.
    The earl sat on the edge of a claw-footed sofa, his dark head pressed against a reclining woman’s naked bosom.
    Charlotte stood frozen, her eyes riveted to the sight of the earl’s mouth releasing a damp, rosy crest. “My lord,” she whispered.
    He rose like a hungry lion above its feast, his dark mane wild, his eyes feral, then viciously angry as they focused on her.
    “Out!” he rasped. “Get out!”
    She backed away, then