Never Lie to a Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

keep a little sister occupied and out of trouble when there were no female relations to depend upon.
    Xanthia did not even remember when she had ceased to play at working and had begun to work in earnest. She could not recall the first occasion when one of the men had come to her with a problem to be solved or a decision to be made. Or when she had fired the first worthless business agent and watched disbelief sketch across his face. But at some point, even the bankers and the merchants and the sea captains had ceased patting her on the head and begun to accept that she was a force with which to be reckoned.
    By slow default, the management of Neville Shipping had fallen to Xanthia and the operations to Gareth Lloyd. Kieran had not strongly objected. It was Barbados; one did what one must with whatever resources one had. Moreover, they were good—both of them— bloody good at what they did. Negotiate and strategize. Invest and hedge. They could send ships and money and commodities flying halfway round the world with the ease of falling off a ladder.
    Lloyd moved the pin to show the relocation of the Belle Weather , then set one shoulder against the mantelpiece, surveying Xanthia across the room with a gaze which was steady but unreadable. “You went to Lord Sharpe’s last night?” he finally said.
    “Reluctantly, yes.” Xanthia laid aside her pen.
    “A Mayfair ball at the height of the season, attended by the height of society,” he murmured. “Was it all that a woman might dream of?”
    “Some women, perhaps.” Xanthia closed the schedule she’d been looking at and stood.
    He crossed the room and set one hand beside her on the desk. The tension in the room was suddenly palpable. “You do know that you cannot live two lives, Xanthia, do you not?” he said coolly. “You cannot be both society belle and business owner. This is England. The ton will not accept you.”
    “Then the ton be damned,” she answered. This was not the first time these past four months this particular issue had arisen. “If my choices did not suit you, Gareth, then you should have stayed in Bridgetown.”
    “And do what?” he returned.
    She lifted her accusing gaze to his. “You had prospects, Gareth,” she said quietly. “Fine ones, too. Hancock’s offered you a good deal more than Neville’s pays you, even with your minority ownership. Did you think me fool enough not to know that? So why are you still here? That’s what I wonder.”
    “Damn it, Xanthia, you know why .” His hands seized her shoulders before she could shove him away, and his mouth took hers roughly. Demandingly.
    For an instant, she let herself give in, let her weight fall against him, giving in to the strain and the loneliness. He was rock solid and warm. Against her will, the memory of a long-ago passion stirred in her chest. Gareth sensed her surrender and deepened the kiss, claiming her—or so he thought.
    But he could never claim her. Whatever there had once been was no more, and she dared not rekindle it. She needed him—needed his friendship, his wisdom—but no, not this. Desire was nothing without love. Xanthia, set her hands against his shoulders and forced him back with surprising strength.
    He lifted his head, his wild, hot gaze holding hers.
    “I ought to slap you senseless.” Xanthia’s voice trembled.
    The wildfire died. “Have at it, my dear,” he said. “If it will make you feel better about being a woman—and having a woman’s needs.”
    Incensed, she drew back her arm, but Gareth’s eyes dared her. Chilled her. Somehow, she found the presence of mind to lower her hand and set her palm flat on the back of her chair instead, so that he would not see how it trembled.
    “Get out, Gareth,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I have grown weary of this. Draw yourself next quarter’s pay, and go. You are sacked.”
    “You cannot sack me, Xanthia,” he said as he turned and walked stiffly away. “Not without a two-thirds vote