Charity Read Online Free PDF Page B

the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was tall, very tall, with dark hair and flashing dark eyes, and his amiable smile revealed a row of the whitest, most perfect teeth she’d ever seen, made even more striking by his tanned face. He looked rugged and fit but every inch the aristocrat.
    Suddenly, she was acutely aware that, despite how hard she had worked to obliterate all traces of her hated Scottish accent, she would never sound as cultured and sophisticated as this man. “I was just on my way home,” she managed to say, when she finally realized she was staring.
    “You don’t live in that castle?” He pointed up the hill behind her.
    Eloise shook her head. “The Marquess of Asheburton lives there. He’s . . . rather reclusive.”
    “Too bad,” the stranger mused. “I was hoping to prevail upon him for hospitality. I’m in the area for a while, you see—taking a walking tour of Scotland, you might say.”
    No wonder he looked so fit. Aloud she said, “And you are . . . ?”
    He smiled, dazzling her again. His face transformed from one that was merely handsome into a visage that was breathtaking. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Oliver Tremaine.” He held out a hand into which Eloise automatically placed her own, and he raised her wrist to his lips for a kiss. “My father is the Duke of Blackthorne.”
    Her wrist still tingling, Eloise absorbed that bit of information, and her entire demeanor changed from cautious reticence to the calculating coquette. Oliver instantly noted the change and pressed his advantage. In no time they’d both agreed that the castle wasn’t at all a viable option. Instead Oliver agreed to accompany her home, and Eloise had promised that her father would be more than happy to welcome him.
    She was right. Her father extended an invitation for Oliver to stay as long as he liked, and Oliver easily managed to charm all the members of her family. Eloise herself fell for him like a rock. It took him less than twenty-four hours to seduce her, and before the month was out she was pregnant. At first she didn’t realize why she felt so tired and ill, but by the time she’d missed her second monthly flux, she knew. When she fearfully told Oliver, he held her close, whispered promises that he would marry her, that everything would be just fine, and then he convinced her to goto sleep. Together, they would speak to her parents in the morning.
    When she woke up, of course, he was gone—along with all the money in her father’s till.
    Terrified and alone, Eloise didn’t waste any more time feeling sorry for herself. For the second time in her life she climbed the hill to Asheburton Keep. Presenting herself to the marquess she announced, “I’d like to accept your offer, my lord.”
    Andrew Kimball had eyed her steadily. “Why?”
    “I am with child.” She lifted her chin and bravely met his gaze.
    “The father?”
    “Gone.”
    “And you’d like me to give the child my name. What if you bear a son? He would become the next Marquess of Asheburton.”
    She nodded.
    The marquess tapped a finger against his lips and appeared to be deep in thought. Eloise waited quietly. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “It might not be a bad thing for the child you carry to inherit the title. I have . . . reasons for this, reasons I do not feel comfortable discussing. Though you have heard the rumors.” He stood and walked a few paces away. It was the first time she’d seen him rise from that cracked leather chair, and she realized he wasn’t very much taller than she. “I ask two things of you,” he said without turning. “First, that you never let it be known that our marriage is anything other than one of affection.”
    Eloise pressed her lips together. “Agreed,” she answered with a decided nod.
    “Second . . .” He finally turned to face her. “If the child you carry is a boy, I’d like a son of my own.”
    Her face paled, but she nodded once more.
    “Very well. Go home. I’ll come