Pleasured Read Online Free PDF

most fashionably dressed, coiffed, and elegantly jeweled lady of the ton .
    The plain dress was not revealing, but neither could it conceal the sweet swell of breast and hips, and his hands itched to slide down her, discovering each curve and dip of her body. Only a saint would not feel lust stir at the sight of her vivid hair piled on her head in a thick, haphazard mass of curls.
    But it was her eyes—huge and clear and astonishingly golden—that pierced a man to his very soul. He had been struck by her beauty yesterday, so much so that when he’d seen her from his study window this morning, he hadbolted out of the house like a green youth to intercept her in the gardens. Then she had looked up at him, the sun full on her face and her eyes the color of molten gold, and the flood of desire that surged through him had been so swift and fierce it was all he could do to remember how to speak.
    What he had seen of her after that—the eyes and face and figure even more alluring up close, the soft fragrance that clung to her, the creamy voice with its soft hint of Scottish burr—had done nothing to lessen that desire. And her bold manner in speaking to a strange man, without blushes or shyness, the flirtatious challenge to find her that she had tossed over her shoulder, hinted of a woman well aware of the response she called up in a man . . . and perhaps willing to answer that response. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, gliding up and down the material as he watched Meg disappear around the corner of the falcons’ cages.
    The prospect of meeting with the estate manager in a few minutes was even less appealing now. With a sigh, Damon went back to the house. As he stepped inside, he caught sight of the housekeeper bustling down the back hall toward the servants’ stairs. MacRae could wait.
    “Mrs. Ferguson.”
    The plump, gray-haired woman whirled around at the sound of his voice and hurried toward him, her forehead creased. “My lord! Is aught amiss? What can I do for you?”
    “No, everything is fine. Excellent. I merely had a question—it occurred to me that you would be the person who would know most about the locals.”
    The woman preened a little. “Indeed, sir, though I amfrom Glasgow originally, I have been here at Duncally nigh on twenty years, so I know the area well. Is there some service you require? Some place you wish to visit?”
    “No. But I wondered what you know of Miss Margaret Munro.”
    “That one!” The housekeeper puffed up like a pouter pigeon. “Did the girl bother you, sir? Indeed, I must apologize. She should not have ventured into the house.”
    “No, no,” Damon assured her hastily. “She did not bother me.” That was a lie, but he did not think his middle-aged housekeeper would appreciate hearing exactly in what manner Meg Munro had disturbed his peace. “I ran into her in the gardens.”
    “She should not go through the gardens.” Mrs. Ferguson tsked. “I shall have to speak to her. She has always been a wild thing—bold as brass. I hope you were not offended.”
    “No, no offense, nothing of the sort. I simply wondered who she was. If she, um, was employed here?”
    “Oh, my, no. You must not think I would hire such a hussy!” Seeing the earl’s raised eyebrows, she went on hastily, “I beg your pardon for my blunt speech.”
    “No, please, go on.”
    “Meg brought herbs and such for the kitchen. No doubt she had some tonic or other. It’s all nonsense, of course, but the people of the glen are a superstitious lot, and they believe she can cure them of ills. It’s the devil’s business, I say. I have tried to help the lass, I can assure you. ’Tis not her fault that she was brought up the way she was—born on the wrong side of the blanket and all.” The housekeeper leaned forward and lowered her voice confidingly.
    “Ah, I see.”
    “Her mother was raised the same before her. The Munro women have a long history of being