Emerald Embrace Read Online Free PDF Page B

was simply weary of the war, and weary of the concepts of others about the rebellious Southerners.
    “If you’re sure, then—” Holly began.
    “Indeed, I’m sure!” Martise snapped, far more curtly than she had intended. She saw the surprise touch Holly’s face, and the hurt, and she was sorry, but she would make it up at some later time. When Holly left her and she crawled into the steaming water, Martise thought ruefully that she must indeed seem a change from her “sister” Mary, for Mary was never brusque. She had always been gentle, always kind, and never raised her voice.
    Her pulse quickened suddenly. Holly had served Mary. She must know something of Mary’s life here, perhaps even something about her secrets.
    Just as the morning’s light dispelled the gloom of the night, the hot bath and rich-scented soap seemed to wash away the last of the long trip to Creeghan.
    Martise dressed feeling a new strength about her. She studied her features as she combed out her hair, determining to leave it loose to fall about her shoulders and down the length of her back. She had chosen a royal-blue gown with a rich flurry of petticoats, and she wondered even as she studied her own eyes if she had really chosen the day gown because it had traveled so well, or if somewhere, in the back of her mind, she might have chosen it to seduce the master of Creeghan.
    There was a knock on her door. She swung it open. Holly was back, quiet and subdued. “Milady, shall I take you to the hall?”
    Martise offered her a warm smile. “Please, Holly. I do believe I know my way, but I shall be happy for your guidance.”
    Holly brightened visibly. She smiled and turned, starting off down the hallway.
    The sun streamed in through the mullioned windows. There were gorgeous draperies and tapestries along the walls, and the cold stone floor was covered with a red velvet runner held in place by brass rings. Every effort had been made to bring the castle into the nineteenth century, Martise thought. The master, it seemed, liked his comforts.
    “So you were with Mary,” Martise said softly, behind Holly.
    Holly paused and looked over her shoulder. “Aye, that I was. No gentler lady have I known than your sister, milady. It broke my heart when we lost her, I do promise you.”
    “I’m sure.”
    Holly started walking again. “Tell me, Holly,” Martise said. “Did it break the master’s heart?”
    Once again, Holly stopped dead, swirling around to stare at Martise with wide eyes. “Oh, indeed, milady, that it did! Why, he just weren’t the same, he weren’t the same at all for months. He sat up night after night in the darkness, he did, missing her.”
    “I’m glad to hear that,” Martise said, and smiled. “Thank you for telling me.”
    Holly nodded, turned about again, and led the way down the stairs. When they reached the hall, Holly did not linger, or even speak to Bruce Creeghan, who stood once more with his back to her.
    He spun around, and Martise was newly startled by the fire in his eyes. It seemed they had a devil’s touch of fire, that they invaded her heart and her mind, and saw the very things she tried to hide. His raven-dark hair and striking features combined to give him the aura of a true master of the world, and yet when he smiled, slowly, as he did now, the arrogance did not seem to matter. He seemed to beckon her as a flame beckons a moth, and she felt the heat of his gaze deep within her. He was a sensual man. She stared at the fullness of his lips and was dismayed to realize that she wondered how the touch of his kiss would feel against her flesh.
    “Good day, Lady St. James. Tell me, did you sleep well your first night in the castle?” he asked.
    “Yes, I did. Thank you very much.”
    He walked across the room to the table that had been set for two. A crystal decanter of blood-red wine sat upon a silver tray between two glasses. He poured two portions and offered her a glass, lifting it so that she was