One Night With a Spy Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    He'd been warned. He ought to have known that if Lord Liverpool waxed eloquent about a woman's beauty—eloquent for Liverpool—that she would be truly extraordinary.
    Extraordinary
didn't even begin to cover it.
    Exquisite. Perfect. Dazzling
. All applied, yet none portrayed the additional attributes that kept this motley crowd of men coming back for the crumbs of her attention.
    Voluptuous. Graceful
—in a coiled-spring sort of way, like a feline at rest.
Jaw-dropping
.
    Arousing.
    Oh, yes. That word said it all quite well. Before them all stood the single most arousing woman Marcus had ever had the painful pleasure of being gobsmacked by the sight of.
    The miniature in his pocket must be years old, the image of a mere girl. Before him now was a creature who was entirely a woman.
    She was demurely clad in deepest mourning and, until now, Marcus had never seen a woman who wasn't washed to a sickly pallor by that particular dull black. On Lady Barrowby, the drab color only made her golden hair shine more brightly and her fine, alabaster skin gleam like moonlight.
    She'd worked the moment nicely as well, with the touching declaration of mourning and the tears that had misted her eyes just enough to make them shine. She was very lovely, the picture of bereaved grace and elegance.
    That didn't mean she wasn't lying.
    "Tell me, Mr. Blythe-Goodman, what brings you to our far corner of Derbyshire? Are you here on business?"
    Marcus leaned back casually on the sofa. "I'm interested in a position that has recently become available."
    Well, that was refreshing. Most gentlemen abhorred the very idea of actual work, although most of them surely would end up taking some sort of employment if they couldn't marry well.
    Then it struck her that he was making reference to taking Aldus's place as her husband. His arrogance irritated her anew. She lifted a brow. "I'm sure there are others in pursuit of such a choice position. I do hope you are not out of your league."
    For some reason this made him flush darkly, the most honest reaction she'd seen yet. Could she have been mistaken? If he was actually in pursuit of employment, her comment was unforgivable. Julia looked away. She'd not meant to injure him.
    She wished he would smile again. One of his front teeth was slightly imperfect. She liked that chipped tooth. It said, "I am a man, not merely a pretty plaything."
    Not that she would be playing—nothing of the sort!
    Oh, dear. The timing of Mr. Blythe-Goodman's arrival into her life was dreadful. There was so much at stake right now. She could not afford such an exceptional distraction!
    If only he had come… well…
never
.
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    His riveted gaze reminds me of a hunting beast with the prey in sight. Oh, let me be your quarry…
     
    Marcus was having a bit of difficulty concentrating on what Lady Barrowby was saying to her paramours.
    Above her modest neckline he could see the bounty of her breasts still swelling, as if the bodice were a bit too tight. In addition, the waist was cinched more than the current classically draped fashion dictated, so that the curve of her rounded hips was revealed to a group of men who hadn't seen a woman's waist since boyhood.
    Although Marcus's own mother had worn such a fashion, it suddenly seemed a deliberate tease aimed at his entire generation. A woman's true shape, revealed!
    Perhaps the style will catch on
, he found himself fervently wishing.
    "God, I hope so," whispered the man standing next to him.
    Marcus clenched his jaw tight. Had he actually spoken aloud without thinking?
    She would not surprise another such response from him. He forced himself to look at her with detachment. Was it her large, heavily lashed blue eyes that drew the other men, or the perfection of her even features? Her cheekbones were high enough to be coolly Slavic, but her eyes had a sleepy downward slant that made one think of damp, rumpled bedsheets that smelled of sex.
    That is, if one were susceptible