Captive Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

to visualize how a man might look if he were stark naked.
      After discarding her sinful musings, Rozalyn gave the man another scrutinizing glance, and when the rake broke into a disarming smile, Rozalyn knew her frantic search had come to an end. This stranger had magnetic charm and dashing good looks. Lenore would be properly impressed by him if Rozalyn carted back to the solarium and introduced him as the light and love of her life.
      "You will do nicely," Rozalyn announced with an approving nod. Extending her dainty hand, she silently requested that he climb up behind heron the bay stallion.
      Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Dominic asked himself. He mentally thumbed through the fairy tales he had read after his father had dragged him from the mountains at the age of thirteen and had deposited him on his grandparents' doorstep to receive a proper education in St. Louis. Knights on white chargers were supposed to sweep lovely damsels up into their arms and then tote them off, weren't they? But there he was, approached by a disturbingly attractive lass. Her soft, husky voice turned him into a heap of senseless mush. Her feminine fragrance drifted down to warp his senses.
      Well, perhaps this dream was a strange one, but Dominic Baudelair was not a man to question good fortune. His large hand enfolded her small one, and he gave not a second thought to refusing the invitation of joining her in the saddle.
      "I will do nicely . . . for what purpose?" Dominic questioned, grinning   with   roguish   anticipation.   He stuffed his booted foot in the stirrup and swung up to settle himself behind this mysterious bundle of beauty. This may evolve into a very interesting morning, he thought delightedly. His lovely companion was far more intriguing than the painted doxies who waited in the brothel.
      The rich, mellow resonance of his voice, so close to her ear, sent a shudder through Rozalyn, and the feel of his hard torso, fitted against her feminine curves, made her tremble. This is absurd, she told herself. Mon Dieu , I don't even know this man! Why does his nearness have such an unsettling effect on me? She had not counted on being so physically attracted to the man she was hauling to Lenore's solarium. That changed everything! She would have to keep a watchful eye on this rogue. There could be nothing between them. This stranger was only a temporary prop who would serve her purpose until she could devise a way to untangle the mess she had made.
      When his muscled thighs crowded her hips and his brawny arms enveloped her waist, Rozalyn gulped down her apprehension and gouged the bay stallion in the flanks. The steed made a tight circle, reversed direction, and then lunged forward as if struck by a lightning bolt. Unprepared, Dominic very nearly toppled off the bay's rump. A startled squawk erupted from his lips and he clung to the only stable thing within reach—Rozalyn. Once he had squirmed back to an upright position, he clamped one hand on the pommel of the saddle, the other tightly around her waist. As he molded himself closer, Rozalyn's anxiety rose another notch.
      "Damnation, woman, slow this nag down or I will provide a corpse for the mortician. Where the hell are we going in such a rush?"
      Rozalyn refused to allow the stallion to break stride, and the amused onlookers parted like the Red Sea, permitting her to thunder off on her urgent mission. She maintained her reckless pace to ensure that the rogue she had picked up off the street would make no advances. It was far easier to have him holding on for dear life than to have him attempting to seduce her, she decided.
      "I request a favor from you, monsieur ," Rozalyn threw over her shoulder, pleased that her tone sounded cool and indifferent though her emotions were in turmoil. "If you will do exactly as I tell you, you will be well paid for your inconvenience."
      When the stallion veered around the corner and finally streaked down