Far Too Tempted Read Online Free PDF Page A

really—”
    “Actually, Robert told me in an unguarded moment the last time I saw him. You know how he is when he’s in his cups, which is often enough.”
    Rebecca bit her lip and sank down into the chair next to the dressing table. She sighed. “I’ve heard it too. I don’t know what to say, Jess.”
    Jessica propped her chin on her fist. “Do you think it is true?” She could not fathom how to feel about it. On one side of the coin he was a wealthy, handsome young man, and while she wasn’t worldly by any stretch of the imagination, she did know gentlemen were often allowed to do as they pleased while their wives looked the other way.
    “I don’t really know.” It was an apologetic admission. “He wouldn’t be the first, would he? It’s just as fashionable for young men to have mistresses as it is for them to tie their cravat in a certain way.”
    “What an unfair double standard. I’m sure he fully expects me to be an innocent on our wedding night.”
    Instantly Rebecca was up out of her chair and across the room. She flung herself down on the bed and hugged Jessica. “Please don’t be angry with Nathaniel, Jess. He’s older and more experienced, certainly, but what man isn’t? Since you aren’t married yet, I’m sure he is just amusing himself, dreaming of you.”
    “Believe me, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself, Beck.” Jessica blinked, not willing to show her friend just how deep the betrayal went.
    Why was she even surprised, she asked herself, returning Rebecca’s hug. Once upon a time, she had believed in heroes.
    But she now knew better. They just didn’t exist. Four years ago she had learned that the hard way.
     
     
    His eyelids were weighted with lead, his mouth full of twisted cotton.
    The fire was all around, sending up a licking heat that singed his skin and laid siege to his sanity. Alex fought it, just as he’d fought the French troops for four years, with steely determination and ruthless will. He surged and writhed against that relentless inferno, tearing at the bonds that would keep him engulfed in the flames.
    He couldn’t let it win.
    But, damn it, he was so very, very tired.
    So far he’d survived everything war had to offer. For four aching, terrible years, he’d survived. The blood, the smells, the sightless eyes that haunted his every dream. Cold, hard ground; biting, bitter winter; the rations that crawled with worms. He’d gone without blankets, without food, even without ammunition. Everything.
    He’d even survived Albuera, when he thought all was finally lost, and delivered the news to Beresford himself that the battle was against them and Soult was going to be victorious.
    Then the English had managed to march on and he’d gone with them.
    To Badajoz. And that citadel had fallen.
    But this fire was too much.
    It consumed him.
    “Colonel, can you hear me?” Cool hands touched his face, fluttering with gentleness against his burning skin.
    Alex opened his eyes. They hurt, the eyelids scraping dryly, but then his whole body seemed to hurt. He ached in places he didn’t even know he possessed.
    “Colonel Ramsey?”
    “Yes.” His voice was raspy, sounding disused. It was a struggle to focus.
    A face swam into view. A plain, wide face creased in a frown of concern. A woman’s face, unknown, but kindly. “Praise the Lord, you’re awake.”
    “Water,” he croaked.
    “Of course.”
    The cool trickle was like a miracle. He swallowed as much as he could with effort and blinked again. “Where am I?”
    She didn’t smile, wearing that same grave expression. “A hospital. Or what passes for one in the ruins of this town.”
    “I was wounded.” Images of what had happened hovered just out of reach.
    “You could certainly say that. You’ve had the fever for several days. How do you feel?”
    “Like hell.” It slipped out and he instantly cleared his throat. “Excuse me, madam. I didn’t mean…that is, I guess I’ve been too long away