Heaven Scent Read Online Free PDF Page B

would feel
any differently about her career than all of the other men in
Boston?
    As the butler announced the evening
meal, the ladies rose. A sudden anticipation swirled in her
stomach. Tarin wondered if Rafe would offer to escort her to dinner
as the only available woman in the room?
    Was his arm as hard and strong as it
appeared? Did he carry the scent of pine, or was his soap tinged
with spice?
    As if she were not even in the room,
Rafe walked right past Tarin and offered his arm to Isabel. Tarin
felt as though a cannonball had landed in her stomach. While she
respected a man who respected his mother, his total lack of regard
touched a green facet in Tarin she never knew existed.
    “May I?” Patrick asked, offering his
arm with a smile.
    Tarin hooked her arm through his. “Your
escort is always a pleasure, Patrick.”
    “Enough to consider courtship?” he
asked in a low, seductive voice. His hand curled over hers in the
crook of his arm.
    Tarin sighed. The man never gave up.
“You flatter me, Patrick,” she said, glancing up at him as they
entered the dining room last. “But I would not want to lose your
friendship over hard feelings.”
    He settled her into the chair opposite
Rafe, leaning over her shoulder to whisper in her ear.
    “I hear it is a woman’s prerogative to
change her mind. I did not want to pass up an unknown
opportunity.”
    He took his seat at the head of the
table, his eyes twinkling.
    Tarin glanced across the table to see
if Rafe had overheard his brother’s flirtations. Much to her
disappointment, he was immersed in the attentions of Lillian and
Olivia on either side of him.
    Funny, the scars didn’t seem to bother
them now.
    During the meal, Tarin learned two
things: Lillian and Olivia’s husbands, George and Timothy, who sat
on either side of her, were two of Rafe’s childhood friends. They
regaled her with tales of Rafe’s youth, including his commonplace
scrapes and subsequent punishments from his father. For some
reason, the rambunctious nature of the stories did not surprise her
in the least.
    The other thing she learned was that
she appeared no more interesting to Rafe Sutherland than a lamp
post. He made no effort to speak to her. She tried to be witty,
speak intelligently to the table as a whole, just as her tutor had
taught her when she was young. Her training had worked up to this
point and this man.
    That was a good thing,
remember?
    Yes, but this one was so,
so… virile . A bit
wild and rugged as the territory he had come from. As though the
suit he wore confined not only his body but his character as
well.
    His skin held a deep, golden tan, save
for the scars on his forehead and left cheek that were dark pink in
color.
    His physique was different - hard,
taut...
    Muscular . Yes, that was the word. The
obvious tight fit of his coat and vest confirmed her assessment.
And heaven help her if she glanced at his close-fitting trousers
one more time before they left. She had always conducted herself
with utmost ladylike behavior, yet in the parlor she had found her
gaze drawn to the man’s body like a powerful magnet.
    His rakish persona obviously brought
out the worst in her. She would be wise to avoid him at all
costs.
    As if that were a problem,
Tarin .
    ‘But
why ?’ Good manners dictated that as a host
of this function, Rafe speak to everyone in attendance. Yet, he
avoided her like typhoid. Tarin's fingers curled into her
napkin.
    Her father had always said
her curiosity was not a virtue. She would prove him right once again.
    “Mr. Sutherland,” she announced,
silencing all conversation at the table.
    Rafe glanced at her, then Patrick, who
also looked at her, before his eyes found hers again.
    “Yes, Miss Worthington?” he replied
with a small, crooked smile.
    Tarin’s heart raced under his focused
gaze. “I understand you served under General Taylor - ”
    “Actually, Miss Worthington,” he cut
in, “I served under Captain Jack Hays of the Texas Rangers.