Further Than Passion Read Online Free PDF

virtuous, honest individual. If nothing else, she'd use the appointment to study the design of the chamber so as to devise a method whereby she could return the ring without his being any the wiser as to how it had been restored.
    His door was ajar, which meant he was expecting he r — t he rat!— b ut she tiptoed in anyway. Like a feral cat, poised to strike, he lounged on the sofa. He'd removed his coat and cravat, so his shirt was open at the neck, revealing a matting of dark hair across his chest, the sleeves rolled up to expose a dusting of the same hair across his forearms .
    The prior evening, she'd observed him naked, but for some reason, his casual state of dishabille was more thrilling than viewing him in the nude.
    "Shut the door," he said, his voice a soothing, sonorous baritone that tickled her innards.
    Without argument, she complied, and she approached until they were toe-to-toe. He watched her with a fierce concentration that ignited a blaze in her belly, and the sensation alarmed her. She would not be affected!
    He continued to stare, and the silence grew oppressive.
    "I'm here, milord," she began. "What do you want?"
    "Your name is Kate?"
    "Yes. Kate Duncan."
    "When we're alone, Kate, you're to call me Marcus."
     
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    She couldn't imagine being on such familiar terms with him, and she refused to fan his flames of fantasy that had him presuming they would meet privately a second time. "I won't, Lord Stamford. And you may not call me Kate. It's Miss Duncan to you."
    With the grace of a leopard, he uncurled from the seat and stood, his body stretching out, and in the shadows, he seemed taller than she recollected. He was drinking a beverage, brandy or whiskey from the smell of it, and he downed the contents of the glass and set it on a nearby table.
    Though he towered over her, she felt no air of menace, and she suspected that much of his bluster was a pretense. He might snipe and bark, might order and shout, but he would never hurt her. At the realization, she relaxed, much less anxious about any hazard to her virtue, or any deviousness as to his motives.
    He pushed her cloak off her shoulders, and it fell to the floor and pooled around her feet.
    "Have you any clothing that isn't gray?"
    "I have a Sunday dress. It's black."
    "I hate how you look in gray. It washes out your skin."
    "Which is my biggest worry."
    "You should be attired in a green that matches the color of your eyes."
    "I'm sure I'd be lovely," she facetiously replied.
    "I'll buy you some outfits, and I'll keep them here, in my room. You can wear them just for me."
    "You most certainly will not."
    "I will."
    "I allowed you to coerce me this once, but if you assume I'll obey a subsequent command, you're an incredible optimist."
     
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    " I always get my way."
    "Not with me."
    He stepped in, his boots slipping under the hem of her gown, their legs tangling. She'd never been so close to an adult male, and her senses reeled. She could feel his heat, could smell the soap with which he'd bathed, and she was assailed by invigorating, masculine odors like tobacco and horses. There was another fragrance that was more subtle, more musky, and she thought it to be his very essence.
    Her anatomy was electrified, and sparks shot between them. Suddenly, she was frantic to touch him, to smooth her hand across his shirt, or perhaps stroke her fingers down his muscled arm. She yearned to snuggle herself to him, positive she'd fit exactly right. The urge was primal, urgent, and she fought it with every fiber of her being.
    He reached out and tugged at her heavy chignon, yanking at the multiple pins and combs that anchored it in place. They scattered across the floor, pinging and bouncing as they hit, and she winced, knowing she'd never find them, and wondering what the maids would think when they swept the next morning.
    But then, his having a female guest in his private quarters was likely a regular event. His employees wouldn't blink over such a discovery,