Move Heaven and Earth Read Online Free PDF Page A

placed it on the ground, then sat at his feet.
    She didn’t say a word. He couldn’t say a word. He was in danger here, he knew it. It was too open, too wild. This exposure whipped his skin raw, dried up his lungs, and chilled his soul.
    Yet Sylvan’s wide mouth, which looked as if it shouldbe in a constant motion of smiling and speaking, remained serene. Her hands rested in her lap, palms up. The incongruous lines in her face smoothed, and she watched the Atlantic as if her salvation existed in its depths.
    She’d placed herself to block his chair.
    She was saving him from himself.
    At one time, he had come here when life became too frenetic, when he needed to make peace with the wildness of his soul. Now the predictability of the breaking waves began to work on him. The seabirds’ calls, the salt tang on his tongue…The tight knot in his stomach loosened. For the first time in months, he didn’t think, he didn’t feel, he simply was.
    And what made it better was that his companion seemed likewise affected.
    Yet when she looked at him, he realized she felt compassion for him.
    He was sick of pity. “What the hell’s your name?” he demanded.
    “Sylvan.”
    “Sylvan what?”
    “Sylvan Miles.”
    That sounded vaguely familiar, and he glared. “Do I know you?”
    Light and shadow danced across her face as if it were the land beneath a cloud-specked sky. The very lack of expression in her voice told him much. “We danced once.”
    Remembrance hit him in the gut.
    She had been in Brussels before Waterloo, like so many other English ladies. They’d made a mockery of the greatest battle in modern Europe with their parties and soirees, and Sylvan had been in the middle, flirting with every man, captivating them all, laughing and gossiping,dressing in the most stylish costumes, riding a fine steed, and…dancing.
    Ah, yes, how well he remembered.
    “By God.” Rand struck the arm of his chair with his fist. “You were with Hibbert, the earl of Mayfield. You’re Hibbert’s mistress.”
    Her serenity shattered, she jumped to her feet. “Don’t you call me that.”
    “Why not? It’s true.”
    “No, it’s—” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. Quietly, she said, “No, it is not.”
    By Jove, he had her now. She was sensitive about her past, as well she should be. “You’re the same as every other female nurse,” he said with relish. “Loose with your morals. But you weren’t a nurse when you were with Hibbert.” Tapping the arm of his chair, he used his ugliest, most insinuating tone. “He wasn’t married, and until you, he’d never kept a woman.”
    She lowered her head like a bull about to charge. “Hibbert was my dearest friend, and I’ll listen to no slander about him.”
    “Why would I slander Hibbert? I liked him, and he died a hero on the battlefield of Waterloo.”
    “Which is more than you did.” She made her own tone derogatory when she said, “Your brother has never married, either. He’s a duke, he needs an heir, and he must be nigh on to forty years old.”
    Oh, ho. That explained everything. She was a fortune hunter, like every other woman who pretended interest in Clairmont Court. He reared back in his chair. “Did you come here to catch a duke? Because I warn you—”
    “No, I warn you.” She took a breath. “Don’t say another word.”
    “I won’t let you make my brother’s life a misery. I’lltell Garth the truth—that you’re a whore of the first water.”
    Wheeling around, she started up the path, and he watched with savage satisfaction. He’d chased her off, the little tart, and—“Hey, wait!”
    She turned back, a tight smile on her lips.
    “You can’t leave me here.”
    “Oh, can’t I?”
    “Dammit!” He maneuvered his chair in a half-circle. “I can’t get back by myself.”
    “Can’t you?”
    “You know I can’t.”
    “You should have thought of that before you insulted me.” She twitched the material of her skirt.