Pursued By The Viscount Read Online Free PDF Page A

again.”
    By “trying again,” Brooketon intended for the two of them to dance a waltz together in the confines of Rachel’s drawing room. A dance Rachel had chosen never to indulge in because of the close proximity of the two participants.
    A dance that had so far proven impossible for the two of them, when Rachel shied away every time the viscount attempted to take her in his arms. She was so tense this evening at the thought of attending the Walker ball on the arm of Viscount Brooketon, of possibly seeing her blackmailer again, she could not even pretend it was otherwise.
    As arranged, the viscount had arrived at Shaw House at precisely eight o’clock and been shown into the drawing room. Rachel had lingered upstairs in the nursery for several minutes after being informed of Brooketon’s arrival, to watch William as he slept.
    She had loved her son from the moment he was born, and that love had only grown stronger and fiercer as the years passed. At four years of age, William Charles Shaw held the whole of her heart in his tiny hand. Rachel had done, and would continue to do, anything to ensure his happiness.
    Including accepting Brooketon’s protection, even if she still refused, for his sake, to tell him the name of the man she needed protecting from? She had not thought of it before visiting Brooketon earlier today, but now fully appreciated, because of his forceful nature, telling him the name of her blackmailer could possibly put Brooketon in danger. She could not bear it if he confronted this other man on her behalf, and came to harm in the process. She doubted their mutual friends would forgive her either.  
    But Brooketon’s protection, in the form of escorting her to a ball? Yes, that she could accept.  
    Brooketon’s close proximity as the two of them danced a waltz together was another matter entirely.
    Her aversion to physical intimacy was not the only reason Rachel shied away from having the viscount’s arm about her waist, her hand on his shoulder, her other hand firmly clasped in his.
    This evening, Brooketon looked resplendently male in his perfectly tailored black evening clothes and snowy white linen, a diamond pin adorning his perfectly arranged neck cloth. His hair shone blue-black in the candlelight, his handsome face naturally austere.
    And yet…
    There was a warmth in those sapphire-blue eyes when he looked at her tonight. A softening of those stern features, even a slight smile curving his sculpted lips. And he smelled divine. Of citrus and spice and something else Rachel believed to be totally Lucien Brooke. Something which sent a tingling sensation down the length of her spine and caused her breath to catch and the bodice of her gown to feel unnaturally tight.
    In awareness of this handsome and vibrant man?
    Never having felt the least physical attraction to any man, Rachel had no idea if that was the case. She felt…strange. As if a part of her wished to have Brooketon’s arm about her and her hand held in his, while that other part of her, beaten and afraid, still shied away from the intimacy.  
    “Did you know that Blackmoor once danced with Lady Thea in this same way?”
    That tingle down Rachel’s spine turned to a shiver at the deepened intimacy of Brooketon’s tone. “I am sure Thea and Blackmoor will have danced together many times,” she dismissed.
    “No, I mean they danced together in private like this before they were married. In the empty ballroom at Latham House.”
    As it happened, Rachel did know. She also knew, from talking with Thea, how intimate that dance had become. “Blackmoor told you this?”
    “Not exactly,” Brooketon drawled. “But his temper the following day was such that we—several of his close friends—were able to guess what had happened. Or rather, not happened.”
    Rachel’s gaze was quizzical. “Not happened?”
    “It is not important.”
    “But— Oh.” She grimaced. “I may have no personal knowledge of physical pleasure, my