In Bed With the Devil Read Online Free PDF

powerful thrusts without flinching, a woman who wouldn’t cower, a woman who could call to the beast in him and have no desire to tame it.
    An image of Lady Catherine Mabry writhing beneath him filled his mind, and he flung the half-emptied bottle across the room. He cursed her yet again. He fought so hard to remain civilized, not to revert to his roots, and she’d managed to completely undo him. He should have lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedchamber; he should have shown her exactly what he was capable of.
    Murder? Dear God, as he’d proven, he was capable of far worse than that.
    From the Journal of Lucian Langdon
    I did not know the name of the man I killed. I did not know that destiny had proclaimed him to be heir to a title.
    I knew only that he had harmed Frannie—cruelly and without mercy. So I took it upon myself to be his judge, jury, and executioner.
    Unfortunately in my haste to see justice delivered, I did not take proper precautions. There was a witness, and I was promptly arrested.
    In hindsight, I can see that I was arrogant to believe that I alone had the wisdom to determine his fate. But I was intimately familiar with the judicial system, having been arrested at the age of eight. I served three months in prison. I bore the mark of my crime upon my right thumb. A T, for thief, burned into the tender flesh.
    A year after my incarceration, it was determined that the practice of marking criminals in that cruel manner should be stopped. And so it was.
    I knew prison was not a pleasant place. I knew some criminals were transported on great hulking ships away from England’s shore, but I didn’t know the particulars and so I could not judge the fairness of it.
    I’d attended a public hanging or two. It seemed a harsh way to go.
    But still I was not willing to risk that the man who’d hurt Frannie would go unpunished or that his punishment would not fit his crime. So I killed him.
    The policeman who arrested me assured me that I’d soon find myself dancing upon the wind. I listened to his grave predictions with stoicism for I had no regrets. When someone harms those whom we love, we must do as we must. And I had always loved Frannie.
    I was waiting in an interrogation room at Whitehall Place when they brought in an old gent. Vengeance burned in his eyes and I knew, without being told, that it was his son I had killed. Byhis dress and manner, I recognized that he was a man with the power to see me delivered into hell.
    He stared at me for the longest, and I stared back. Since my arrest, I’d spoken not one word, other than my name. I neither denied nor confirmed the charges.
    â€œAlways ’old yer tongue,” Feagan had advised us on the matter of being arrested. “No matter wot ye tell ’em, truth or lie, they’ll twist it around to suit their own purposes.”
    I’d learned early on that Feagan’s words were not to be dismissed. He knew of what he spoke.
    Then the old gent did the strangest thing. He stepped forward, clamped his gloved hand around my chin, and turned my face one way and then the other. “I need more light,” he declared.
    More lamps were brought in and set upon the table, until I felt completely exposed. The anger in the old gent’s eyes changed into something softer, an emotion I didn’t recognize.
    â€œWhat is it, my lord?” an inspector asked.
    â€œI think he’s my grandson,” the old gent rasped.
    â€œThe one that went missing?”
    The old gent nodded once, and I saw a way out of my predicament. Already I had learned how to read people. I knew what the old gent wanted. With my answers to his questions, I deceived him into believing it was me.
    When he was convinced that I was his grandson, he told the inspectors to give us a moment alone. He sat in a chair across from me.
    â€œDid you kill my son?” he asked.
    I nodded once.
    â€œWhy?”
    For the first time that