His For The Taking Read Online Free PDF Page A

listening and allowing him to relieve his anger.
    She was an excellent dance partner,
saving him from the drudgery of waltzing with daft chits with nothing but
marriage on their minds.
    He squeezed tight to the flower’s
stems. But hadn’t Lady Chesterfield pushed Julianna toward him, insisting on
all or nothing? Wasn't he guilty of pushing her too? To admit she loved him or
let go of the notion? He set his fingers to his lips. The memory or her mouth
against his and his mood lightened. She did taste good, her tender lips, her
soft moan. Damn her for ripping his oblivion away. Until he kissed her, he had
been only half aware of her beauty, only partially aware of how wonderful she
smelled. Damn, damn, damn, was he actually becoming aroused at the thought of
her leaning into him, her cool fingertips woven into his hair?
    "Bloody hell!" he
growled.
    At the sound of the rattling door
handle, he drew in a sharp breath. Time to end this nonsense. Perhaps it was
all machinations devised by the old woman. Surely, Julianna knew him well
enough. Knew he would never hurt her on purpose. Blast it, hadn't he done that
already?
    He raked his fingers through his
hair and wished he had never left Denbigh Hall. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be
thinking the unthinkable.
    The friendship they shared brought
her closer to him than his own brother.
    "No, no," he whispered.
It was the old girls doing. By God, why did Lady Chesterfield have to strip him
of greatest acquaintance?
    He shook his head. One simply
didn't marry their best friend. Did they?
    Damnation, he wasn't going to wait
for Lady Chesterfield to relent or for Julianna to forget the silly notion. He
was going reclaim his relationship.
    Enough was bloody well enough. He
squared his shoulders and readied for battle against the old biddy.
    But as the door opened, all the
bluster that filled his sails evaporated. For before him stood not his Julianna
but Constance Whitcomb, her oval face sparkling with blue eyed delight.
    "Why Lord Denbigh how
wonderful to see you. Are those lovely posies for me?"
    Constance
didn't give Jonathan an opportunity to answer. She grabbed the bouquet and held
it to her ample bosom. Blast his eyes for noticing the creamy white mounds that
rose above the pale blue bodice of her gown. She was a beauty but he realized
that when she smiled, it was not her smile he longed to see. In fact, if you
set her beside Julianna, she paled in comparison.
    Her blond curls seemed bland next
to the rich brown locks that framed Julianna's heart shaped face. Her
expression vacant. Lips that begged to be kissed were thin, not soft and pink.
How had he not seen the grandeur of Julianna? How?
    And was the grandeur he was now
seeing real or an illusion put into play by a conniving old woman and her
ruthless granddaughter?
    Ruthless…indeed. Anger surged
through his body. He was being played by an aged master and her young minion.
Had Julianna played up to him, gained his confidence and then pulled the rug
out from under his feet? Well by God, he wouldn’t come crashing down.
    "Do come in, Lord Denbigh. My
mother will be happy to see you. We are about to sit down to tea."
    "Your mother?" Hell, this
day was getting better and better.
    "Yes, she and I are
vacationing here at Oak Park while
Lady Chesterfield and Lady Julianna are away."
    He froze over the threshold.
"Julianna isn't here?" Damn it, did his heart just sink in his chest?
What the bloody hell was going on with him? He was acting like a jilted lover.
Not the best friend he always supposed himself to be.
    But no, Julianna played a game and
perhaps he stumbled but he refused to fall for the manipulation.
    "No, she and her grandmother
have left." She stepped back into the house. "Why don't you join us?
I'm sure mother would love to hear all your news. It has been ages since you
last called on me."
    Jonathan remained still, his mind
racing. Where had they gone? He knew Lady Chesterfield meant to find Julianna a
husband. But why