Frovtunes’ Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page A

her pleasure aloud. This—and only this—allowed her to pass the refreshments now with the air of disinterest expected in a wellborn lady.
    With a fluid sweep and without the slightest break in his stride, he lifted a glass from the linen tabletop. An equally smooth flourish transferred the glass to her hand.
    â€œChampagne, madam.”
    â€œWhy, thank you.”
    As they walked on, her free hand somehow traveled to the snug, warm, quite solid crook of his arm. His considerably larger hand descended to hold hers firmly in place. She became exceedingly aware of the masculine weave of his coat sleeve beneath her fingers, the rougher contour of his palm against the back of her hand. A tremulous sensation traveled through her.
    â€œAs long as we’ve baptized one another in your wine, madam, perhaps you’ll tell me your name.”
    He guided her past the central fountain and down a tree-lined path that disappeared beneath an arbor. Covered in climbing honeysuckle, the latticework formed a sweet, dusky tunnel. A little warning trilled inside her, along with a tremor of expectation she liked not at all.
    She knew she should divert him in another direction, but trees and tall hedges barred that option. He ushered her steadily forward into the fragrant twilight of the arbor. She drew a breath that quivered and slowly released it. “You’ve yet to introduce yourself, sir.”
    â€œIndeed, madam.” He chuckled as he brought her to a halt, then twirled her as if leading her in a dance. “Graham Foster, at your service.”
    â€œSir Graham Foster,” she said with feigned surprise. To have
not
done so would have seemed odd, indeed, for these days nearly everyone had heard of the exploits of the daring Egyptologist Graham Foster.
    â€œNot
Sir
Graham any longer, I’m afraid.” His grin turned wry. “Seems I inherited a bit of a barony while I was away. Now I’m saddled with a title, property, and the lot. Keep hoping to wake up and discover it’s all just a perplexing rumor.”
    Moira stiffened. A rumor? Had rumor dislodged her ailing mother from the home she loved, from all that was familiar and comfortable? Indeed, not. The new Lord Monteith had done that, though it seemed little more than a joke to him.
    â€œWhy don’t you give it back?” she murmured through lips gone stiff with fury.
    â€œCan’t. It’s all entailed, and I have the dubious honor of being the last available heir. Besides, I believe I can find good use for my inheritance. But we digress. You still haven’t told me your name.”
    She concealed her outrage behind her champagne glass, letting far too much of the sparkling liquid pass her lips before remembering how quickly the bubbles tended to affect her judgment. She slipped her hand from his arm. “I am Miss Houser. Miss Mary Houser.”
    She’d hesitated the smallest fraction of an instant in speaking the name, and—confound the man—his eyes narrowed in acknowledgment. But speculation quickly vanished within the laugh lines fanning from the corners of his eyes.
    â€œVery pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Mary Houser.” His tone mocked ever so subtly. He reclaimed her hand and shook it, then continued to hold it, confine it really, within the confident sprawl of his long fingers. “Especially as you took such great pains to make
my
acquaintance.”
    Her chin snapped up. “I beg your pardon.”
    â€œDon’t deny it.” Even as his voice dipped to a sinister baritone, his grin widened. “If that smile of yours earlier didn’t say ‘follow me,’ I’ve lost all power of perception.”
    â€œYou assume too much, sir.”
    â€œNow, now, Miss Houser, let us be frank. You wished to meet me, and I am equally delighted to meet you.”
    Oh, such an insufferable flirt. Such a coxcomb. Her hackles rose. She tried to tug her hand free, but like a clever