Eve Silver Read Online Free PDF Page B

not wish to keep your father waiting.”
    She drew in a fortifying breath. The thought of seeing Lord Anthony this morning gave her an odd feeling, half apprehension, half nervous anticipation.
    “A gentleman escorts a lady so.” Emma positioned Nicky's arm and laid her hand gently in place. He looked up at her uncertainly, and Emma's heart gave a little kick. Clearly he was wary of her, perhaps even fearful. She turned the full magnitude of her smile on him and gave a brief nod. “Lead on, sir.”
    Nicky hesitated, his gaze sliding from hers, focusing on her hand where it rested on his arm. Then he cast a desperate look at Cookie, who smiled and nodded her encouragement.
    “That's just fine, love,” the cook said gently. “You take Miss Parrish on in to breakfast.”
    Cookie's encouragement proved to be all that Nicky needed. With a nod he hiked his arm up in recognition of Emma’s greater height and led her from the kitchen. Rather, Nicky galloped and Emma took long strides in order to keep up. She found it promising that the child maintained the position of his arm and escorted her to the best of his ability, rather than shaking off her touch. A most approvable beginning.
    Although, it seemed that Mrs. Bolifer did not agree, for as they walked past, Emma noticed that the housekeeper sent her a look of unconcealed distrust.
    Upon entering the breakfast room, Emma paused. There were three settings at the table, and the aroma ascending from the foods held in silver chafing dishes on the sideboard permeated the air.
    Nicky skirted the dining table and threw himself into the seat closest to the window. His movements were so exuberant that Emma feared he might dislodge the pristine white tablecloth, and all of the china and crystal with it. She gave a tiny sigh of relief when he was safely seated with the tableware still intact.
    “Good morning, Nicholas,” a deep voice rumbled from the doorway behind her.
    Startled, Emma spun so quickly she nearly lost her balance. Lord Anthony was directly behind her. He reached forward and grasped her elbow, steadying her.
    “And good morning to you, Miss Parrish. I trust you are recovered from the fatigue of your journey.” That voice. Warm and lush, it stroked her senses, made her want to lean closer and revel in the sensuous baritone.
    “Good morning, my lord.” Her heart skittered within her breast as she looked up and took in her first clear view of Lord Anthony Craven. Why, he is young , she thought in surprise. No aging tyrant but a man of perhaps three decades, vital and strong. He was tall, well formed, the tailored cut of his coat caressing his frame. Dark hair, overly long and sinfully thick, hung straight to his collar, framing the hard planes of his face. She had the oddest urge to reach out, to run her fingers through the shining strands of his hair, to test the softness.
    Dear heaven. He was more than attractive. He was masculine perfection. Emma wet her lips, stunned by his stark, male beauty, and by her own inexplicably strange reaction to it. The full, sensual curve of his lips pulled taut, and she held her breath waiting for his smile.
    “And thank you, yes, I am quite recovered from the fatigue of the journey.” She felt breathless, akin to the sensation elicited by a vigorous walk.
    The smile she anticipated never came, and she found herself oddly disappointed. He stared at her intently, as if he could read her every thought, his gaze locking with hers, and then dropping lower to peruse her person in a most indecent manner.
    Emma's pulse raced as he returned his attention to her face. She felt undone by the look he settled on her. Somehow, the way he looked at her, with pupils dilated and dark, rimmed in topaz green, made Emma think that Lord Anthony Craven was hungry. For her.
    Her breath left her in a rush.
    “Then you slept well?” he inquired. “Undisturbed by things that go bump in the night?”
    Emma’s shoulders tensed at this oblique reference to