My Lord and Spymaster Read Online Free PDF Page A

the nipples tight.

    “No damage to that pair. That’s going to make hordes of men happy, won’t it?”

    Beautiful and beautiful, left and right. Unruly parts of him took note, getting hard and ready. His cock was offering suggestions on the best way to warm her up. He and his cock were just going to have to disagree about that.

    “Let’s get the rest of this off.” He sawed through a bit of silk ribbon, then cut a widening vee of nakedness down her belly, getting less and less dispassionate with every inch. Devil knew how doctors managed. Maybe they were all eunuchs.

    Her skin was cold against the back of his hand, smooth as water. Soon enough he brushed a feathering of curly hair. She was blonde down there, too. Blonde as summer wheat. A man never knew till he checked.

    A legion of men had plowed that particular wheatfield, and that was a sin and a shame for a woman like this.

    Her belly curved down from her hips to the long, soft plain with that vulnerable navel at the center, then rose in a little mound where those curls sprang up. It was territory that called out for a man to come lay his head in the cradle of her, there, and turn and kiss his way up that hill and fill his mouth with the smell of her and the taste . . .

    He shouldn’t have his hand there without invitation.

    He took a deep breath and moved on, cutting away the rest of her skirt and peeling it back.

    What was she doing on Katherine Lane, trying to sort through his pocket change? Who left her alone, in the stink and cold of the docks, to get attacked by gangs of Irishmen? That was going to stop.

    One last tug. He pulled wet cloth out from under her. She lay on the white cotton covers of his bunk, a little on her side, instinctively trying to curl against the cold, wearing nothing but a locket on a thin blue ribbon.

    Naked, she looked small and breakable. She’d seemed more substantial when she was on her feet, telling him lies and kicking thugs.

    He’d been wrong about that locket. It wasn’t gilt. This was gold, soft and heavy, with the design almost worn off. When he picked it up he could feel the age on it, the years that had rubbed it smooth. The clever hinge was Italian work.

    “This trinket doesn’t belong on the Lane. Neither do you, sparrow. We’re going to have a long talk about that when you wake up.” He didn’t open it. He set the gold back between her breasts and left his hand there, his knuckles just touching her. “Your heart’s thumping along like clockwork. That’s good. You keep that up.”

    Under his fingers, her skin was smooth and unnaturally cool, with the heart beating inside. She might have been a marble statue, just called to life, taking the first breath. He could slide over a few inches and help himself to those breasts. He’d maybe taste them fairly soon. They’d be honey and cream with a rough nub of a nipple tweaking back and forth on his tongue.

    Damn. Was he really thinking that way about an unconscious woman?

    Yes. Yes. Oh, yes. Let’s do that. His cock didn’t have any scruples at all.

    But then, his cock wasn’t in charge. “And I’m roused up like a squad of marines on shore leave.” He pulled his hand off the girl and stomped across the cabin, feeling moderately despicable, looking for towels. “That’s uncomfortable. Let’s wring some water out of your pretty hide and get you covered up.”

    Blankets were in the bottom drawer, towels beside the washstand. He brought them to the bed and sat beside her and dried her off fast, trying not to touch her skin. “We’ll discuss your very tempting wares when you’re awake. I like dealing with women who can talk.”

    He wrapped her in one of the Valletta blankets he shipped, vivid blues and greens in long stripes. Wool soft as a kitten. He cocooned her, head to foot, till he couldn’t see a square inch of skin. It didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. “Where the hell has that boy got to?”

    Unbelievable, the effect she had