Pursuing Lord Pascal Read Online Free PDF Page B

ruined the
effect.
    “Lady Mowbray.” He tightened his hold on her
hand, although she hadn’t tried to pull away. On the narrow seat,
her hip nestled warm against him.
    Good intentions could go to blazes.
    He leaned in and brushed his lips across
hers. There was a fleeting sweetness, a huff of feminine outrage,
the impression of softness. Then he drew back, astonished at how
difficult it was to resist returning for a longer taste.
    “Nice,” he whispered.
    The air shimmered with awareness, before she
broke the thread twining between them with a soft laugh. “My
goodness, you really are a rake. How exciting.”
    Curiosity lit her eyes, and her lush lips
were still parted. Then and there, he decided that this pursuit was
serious. Probably the most serious thing he’d ever attempt in his
hedonistic, purposeless life. “Reformed rakes make the best
husbands, I’ve been told.”
    Shock widened her eyes, banished the
amusement. More shock than she’d demonstrated when he kissed her.
Which was interesting.
    “Husbands?”
    He smiled self-confidently and turned his
attention to the horses, flicking the reins to get them moving
again. “I warned you I had intentions, Lady Mowbray.”

Chapter Three
     
    As the carriage rolled into motion, Amy was
breathless, caught up in a dream, rushed along from event to event
with no logic to link them. Her lips tingled after that brief kiss
in a way they’d never tingled after her husband’s rare kisses. Now
the man she’d mooned after as a girl said he wanted to marry
her.
    She resisted the urge to pinch herself. When
she was a dizzy adolescent, head over heels with her brother’s
picturesque friend, she’d imagined Pascal declaring his love. In
her innocence, that had usually involved a rose garden, and a white
horse, and endless yearning looks.
    By the time she turned sixteen, she’d
recognized those fantasies as mawkish and unrealistic. Heavens, if
she’d thrown in a couple of unicorns and a troupe of dancing
fairies, her dreams couldn’t have been more unlikely to come
true.
    Since then, she hadn’t entertained a single
romantic thought. Until Lord Pascal had danced with her and revived
the remnants of foolish girlhood that lingered under her practical
manner.
    She was too flustered to be tactful. Not that
tact came naturally anyway. “We have nothing in common. The idea’s
ridiculous.”
    Instead of taking umbrage, he laughed with
sardonic appreciation. “This is the first time I’ve discussed
marriage with a lady. You could be a little kinder.”
    “I’m sorry.” She’d noticed last night that
for a man whose handsomeness was universally praised, he showed a
refreshing lack of vanity. “You caught me by surprise.”
    “I hoped to avoid any misunderstandings about
where my thoughts are leading.” He still looked amused. “You’re not
an ingénue, Lady Mowbray.”
    The problem was that in most ways that
counted, she was an ingénue. She realized that her hand still lay
in his. The first time he’d touched her, her heart had turned
cartwheels. It said something for how he’d distracted her today
that she’d forgotten they held hands.
    She slid her hand free and clenched it in her
lap. “You’re mocking me.”
    He frowned. “Not at all.”
    “Then why would you say such a nonsensical
thing?”
    He cast her a wry glance. “Kinder, please,
Lady Mowbray.”
    “You’ll have to forgive my manners.” She
sucked in an annoyed breath. “I’m not used to strangers wanting to
marry me. I wondered if it was some peculiar London joke.”
    “You’re a beautiful woman.” He studied her
with a puzzled expression. “You must have men after you all the
time.”
    “Hundreds,” she said drily and with perfect
honesty. There was her farm manager, and her tenants, and her
neighbors who, after initial reluctance to accept a woman’s advice
on farm matters, now clamored for her help.
    She was startled when Lord Pascal accepted
the answer at face value. “Exactly.