Seger, Maura Read Online Free PDF Page A

for information as she herself.
    As the rigorously correct Japanese houseman stepped into the parlor to announce that the first guests had arrived, they were forced to break off their discussion, but with promises to continue later.
    Erin instantly found herself the center of attention as she was introduced to a Dutch couple involved in the silk trade, a British officer and his wife, who were with the local garrison, a beautiful Portuguese lady and her French husband, who owned a porcelain-exporting firm, and half a dozen others who helped form the small but growing international community that had sprung up over the last decade or so since Admiral Perry "persuaded" the shogun to end Japan's centuries of isolation.
    But as absorbing as she found the fascinating men and women who had chosen to make their home in such an exotic corner of the world, her attention kept wandering. Over and over she caught herself glancing toward the door.
    As she stood chatting with the French porcelain dealer, a sudden sense of unease swept over her. In the midst of laughing at his very amusing story, she stiffened instinctively.
    Storm stood beneath the arch that separated the entry hall from the parlor. The houseman had just relieved him of his black silk cloak. Riveted to every detail of his appearance, Erin could not help but notice that he scorned the customary top hat. The thick pelt of his chestnut hair was left unencumbered. It glistened in the light from the gas-lamp chandelier as he glanced around at the assemblage.
    She felt rather than saw his gaze settle on her. Refusing to look at him any more than she already had, Erin struggled to give all her attention to the charming Frenchman. But the image of Storm standing lean and hard in his perfectly tailored black evening clothes kept intruding on her thoughts.
    When she had known him eight years before, his overwhelming strength and virility had affected even her immature sensibilities. But now she was deluged by emotions she could hardly credit. Even as she told herself she had the best possible reasons to be wary of him, she could not deny the compelling attraction he had for her.
    Beneath the thin silk of her gown, her heart began to beat alarmingly. A spark flared deep within her, struck flame and spread almost
    Instantly. Waves of warmth swept over her, making her legs feel weak and bringing a tremor to her hands.
    "Mam'selle, are you all right?" Monsieur Chantail inquired solicitously. "Perhaps your journey was more tiring than you realize. Pray allow me to fetch you a restoratif."
    "I hardly think that's necessary," a deep voice interjected. "Miss Conroy looks as though a breath of fresh air would do her far more good."
    The Frenchman frowned at the sudden interruption, but endeavored to maintain the facade of courtesy so essential to such gatherings. "Ah, of course, that is an excellent suggestion, Captain Davin." Holding out his arm, he smiled encouragingly. "If you would care to accompany me, my dear ..."
    She did not, but there seemed to be no way to refuse without being rude. As she reconciled herself to the need to accept, rescue came from an unexpected quarter.
    "A word of caution, Chantail," Storm murmured. "Your lovely Rosalinda is looking this way, and doesn't appear at all pleased by what she sees."
    The Frenchman paled. He found it prudent to avoid provoking his wife's ire. Besides being able to deliver a formidable tongue-lashing at the slightest hint that she did not possess his utter loyalty and devotion, she also controlled the purse strings.
    Sighing regretfully, he bowed to Erin, nodded grudgingly at the tall, sardonic man beside her and departed.
    The moment he was gone, Storm took her arm. His touch was light but unmistakably firm. It burned through her gown, searing the soft skin beneath. She tried to pull away, only to stop as his hold inexorably tightened. Without hurting her in the least, he still made it clear that unless she wished to create a scene that