His Wicked Kiss Read Online Free PDF

not to think about all he stood to lose if things went badly. His freedom. His company. Possibly his neck. None of that bothered him, though, as much as the prospect of facing a world again that he had walked away from a long time ago. A world that had not wanted him.
    His mind drifted off across the darkened landscape, far away, toward his destination over the sea… to the green, rolling, patchwork fields of his native England .
    Every muscle in his body clenched. A steadying exhalation escaped him quietly. It was hard to believe that in a few weeks’ time, he would set foot on English soil again, after his long, long exile. Nothing but the threat of this slaughter practically in his back garden could have induced him to return.
    He’d have to see his brothers again, he supposed, and of course, one could not forget Maura.
    His face hardened. Perhaps when he saw her again after all these years, he could ask her if marrying the marquess had been worth it.
    Turning away from the railing, Jack prowled back into the unfamiliar chamber and shrugged off his waistcoat, tossing it willfully aside, along with his troubled thoughts.
Hot bloody night
. How was a man supposed to sleep? He was spoiled, he guessed, by the cool ocean breezes at his elegant white-stuccoed villa in Jamaica .
    His principal home sat high on a cliff overlooking the sea. It was a short drive into Port Royal , where his company, Knight Enterprises, was headquartered.
This
was the home he had made for himself, he thought, though a part of him had yet to be convinced that he actually belonged anywhere on earth.
    As he lifted his loose linen shirt off over his head, a timid knock sounded at the door.
    “Aye?”
    Jack waited, expecting some last-minute reminder from Trahern on the shipment of tropical hardwoods they’d be collecting in the morning before they set out—the rare zebrawoods in particular were going to fetch a steep price on the London markets—but when the chamber door opened, his eyebrow lifted.
    The pretty senorita from the terrace peeked in, carrying a water pitcher in one hand and a stack of freshly folded towels in the other. “I-I have these things for you, sir,” she said in the sweetest little accent.
    It turned his blood to honey. A narrow smile crept over his face. “Come on in, darlin’.” He stared hungrily at her, stunned all over again by these local goddesses. In brooding speculation, he watched her carry the items over to the mahogany washstand. She sent him a shy but sultry smile.
    Four to six weeks at sea… no woman to warm his bed.
    Jack reached into the pocket of his discarded coat for a few gold coins, fully prepared to make it worth her while.
    She must have felt his study, for she glanced over her shoulder at him, her curious gaze flicking down his bare chest, over the thick muscles, work-hardened contours, and assorted scars on his body.
    He lifted his chin, offering himself for her pleasure without a word. The girl swallowed hard, clearly interested, but perhaps also intimidated by his size and the bruiser’s build that he had inherited from his real father, a champion prizefighter; she was, he guessed, more accustomed to the wiry body of that no doubt overeager boy.
    “I don’t bite,” he whispered with a shadowed smile.
    But perhaps she liked what she saw, for when he crooked his finger at her slowly, she approached with cautious steps.
    “Will there be—anything else, my lord?” she asked a trifle breathlessly.
    He nodded, staring, and pressed the gold into her hand. The girl trembled but uttered no protest as he began gently unlacing her bodice.

Chapter
Two
      
    The next morning, Papa and Connor set out early to visit the Waroa settlement a few miles away in hopes of finding an Indian guide who might be willing to take them into the Amazon.
    Eden prayed the Waroas had more sense than her genius father. Perhaps Papa’s friend, the shaman, might even talk him out of this mad plan, for most tribes in the