Improper Advances Read Online Free PDF Page A

words dissolved his prejudice momentarily. “I did,” he said, with a reassuring smile.
    Their glances held. She drew a sharp breath, possibly of anticipation.

    Dare returned his attention to the lock, and found, to his dismay, that his fingers were shaky and his palms moist. It had been a long, long time since he’d stood so near a fetching—and fragrant—female.
    He shoved against the door. When it failed to give way, he kicked hard enough to force it open. The grinding of the unused hinges was music to his ears. One glance inside, he told himself, and her enthusiasm for living in a quaint country cottage would vanish. Within seconds she would plead with him to recommend the best hotel down in Douglas.
    Clutching her flowers, she preceded him into the narrow, dark hall, and found her way to the small parlor. The light streaming in from two small windows revealed white walls and a fireplace with an iron grate.
    “Extremely rustic,” said Dare, unnecessarily.
    She ran her hand across a wooden chair back. “The furniture was made on the island?”
    He nodded. The view of Skyhill had lured her to the window. After gazing out for a moment, she went into the adjacent room, which had barely enough space for its dining table and a few spindly chairs.
    He let her find her way to the rear of the house. A great stone-faced hearth dominated the kitchen. The dairy, dry and cool, contained rows of wooden shelving.
    “I could have my very own milk cow,” said Mrs. Julian. “And hens to lay eggs, and geese.”
    “Have you ever kept animals?” he asked.
    “A dog, when I was a child. Rowley—my King Charles spaniel.”
    “Here, you’d need a cat. A good Manx mouser.”
    Undeterred by his implied warning that vermin infested these walls, she continued her explorations.
    He followed her up the narrow staircase, taking in every detail of her back view—the exposed nape of her delicate neck, the slender, tapering back, and gently swaying hips.
    She peered inside the musty linen cupboard crammed into a corner of the smallest of the upper chambers and emerged wearing a frown, raising his hopes.
    They proceeded to the principal sleeping chamber. Like the parlor, it offered her a view of Skyhill, and the bedstead was positioned directly opposite the window.
    “Imagine waking up to that fine vista every morning!” Turning to Dare, she added, “I cannot comprehend why this dear little house is vacant.”
    “For most people, the rent is too high.”
    If her finances were dodgy, she wouldn’t be able to afford it, either. Selecting a sum that she might well judge excessive, he said, “Twenty-five pounds per annum. Half a pound per week, on a short lease.”

    “I call that a bargain.”
    “You must take into account your servants’ wages,” he hastened to point out. “You’d need a woman to care for your poultry and cook all those eggs, to pluck and roast the geese. And milk the cow.”
    She thrust her flowers at him and her fingers delved into her reticule. “I’ll pay you now. I’ve got five pounds.”
    This wasn’t the outcome he’d envisioned. When she presented her banknote, he shook his head. “I meant five Manx pounds. Your English currency is worth more than ours.”
    “I’ve had no opportunity to change my money. The difference doesn’t signify to me.”
    “Mrs. Julian, are you certain you’re ready to commit to this project? I urge you to wait a few days—or longer-and acquaint yourself with the island. There are some very pretty towns along the coast, and many more glens.”
    “I’m satisfied with this cottage. What did you call it?”
    “Croit ny Glionney. Glencroft.”
    With remarkable accuracy, she repeated the Manx words.
    “I fear your life here will be very dull.”
    “That would make a pleasant change for me.”
    “And lonely,” he persisted.
    “I shall survive it.” Taking back her nosegay, she declared, “For me, solitude is a novelty, not a hardship. And the episode at your house