Dangerous to Hold Read Online Free PDF

backward glance.
    When the door closed, Catherine’s shoulders slumped. Deep down, she’d known she was going to be turned away, but it still hurt. But what hurt most was that she really didn’t recognize her sister in the hard, mercenary creature she had just spoken to. She didn’t feel like crying. She wanted to lash out and hurt the men who were responsible for what her sister had become. Amy hadn’t always been like this. She’d been a romantic, dreamy sort of girl until she’d fallen in with the wrong crowd. And Aunt Bea hadn’t helped. And neither had she when she’d said all those unforgivable things in Lisbon.
    She picked up her muff and reticule, but left the sovereigns where they had fallen. The same footman who had opened the front door to her saw her out, or rather, saw her off the premises. He’d been warned not to takeany chances, or so Catherine deduced from his clawlike grip on her elbow. She had hardly stepped out of the house when the door closed behind her with a resounding slam.
    She stared at that closed door in boiling resentment. For two pins, she’d write a series of articles on the notorious courtesans of London. Jaw clenched, she marched down the steps just as three men in black silk capes descended from a hackney.
Gentlemen
, she thought with a sneer and wanted to spit on them. It was evident that they were bound for Amy’s house. Caution was forgotten as she angrily pushed past them. The first one gave way with a muffled exclamation. The second was not so polite. He caught her by the waist and swung her in a circle.
    “Whoa,” he said. “Why all the haste? The party is this way, darling. You’re going the wrong way.” His breath smelled strongly of spirits, and Catherine’s head went down.
    “Marcus, let her be,” said the third man, “She’s not one of Amy’s friends. Anyone can see she’s a respectable lady.”
    “If she’s a respectable lady,” said Marcus, “why is she coming from Amy’s house?”
    His two companions laughed and mounted the stairs. One used his cane to rap on the door.
    “Look up, darling,” said Marcus. “I want to see what you’re hiding beneath the brim of your bonnet. I promise I won’t bite you.”
    Catherine didn’t move. She stood there silent and stiff-backed, resisting as he cupped her chin, forcing her head up.
    He was tall and lean, and gave the impression of an athlete honed for action. His looks were Irish, dark hair, vivid blue eyes, and a mouth that looked as if it smiled a lot. It was not smiling now.
    It was a face she recognized, a face she had hoped never to see again. She was staring at Marcus Lytton, the Earl of Wrotham.
    Her husband.
    The door opened, and light streamed out, illuminating Catherine’s face. “Are you coming, Marcus?” Therewas no answer, and the two gentlemen on the steps passed inside the house.
    The hands on Catherine’s waist tightened cruelly. “Catalina!” he said, snarling the word. “Catalina! My God, it
is
you!”

Chapter 2
    Catherine fought her way clear of his arms and backed away from him. She was frightened, more frightened than she had ever been in her life, and her breasts rose and fell with each labored breath. If ever a man was bent on murder, that man was towering over her. As he lunged, she took a quick step to the side and whipped her pistol out of her muff.
    “Stand back!” Her voice wobbled as much as the pistol in her hand, and she made a supreme effort to steady both. She had never, in her worst nightmares, imagined that this day would ever come. He was supposed to be in Paris. They moved in different circles. Three years had passed since she had last seen him. He couldn’t remember her clearly.
He couldn’t.
Too many women had passed in and out of his life since then.
    “Stand back!” she repeated when it looked as if he would come at her again. When he slowly raised his hands she rushed on, “I don’t know who you think I am, but you are mistaken. I never saw you