Shayla Black Read Online Free PDF

away until only Brock remained. The low buzz in her ears intensified the hum of awareness swirling throughout her.
    It wasn’t the clothing that made him, though the superior cut of his dark coat enhanced his air of power. Nor was it the sheen of his slightly askew mahogany hair. But those potent green eyes captured her. Held her. Made her remember his kisses, the touch of his hands, his fervent whisper of ardor as he seduced her out of her clothes and joined their bodies, giving her a rush of pleasure.
    Drawing in a shaky breath, she shoved the memories aside and set her gaze over his strong Roman nose, the stark blades of his cheekbones, his square chin. His skin no longer looked berry-brown but would never be pale enough to please the ton . As her gaze strayed down, she remembered the warmth of his broad, muscled chest, the thrill she’d felt when he held her.
    Admonishing herself, Maddie met his gaze squarely. “You gave me a week to decide my fate. Why have you come now?”
    A wry smile curled his mouth upward. “I see you’re pleased by my call.”
    Of course she wasn’t pleased. However, she must tread cautiously.
    Gesturing to the Louis XIV sofa, Maddie seated herself on the farthest armchair, wondering how best to proceed. “Mr. Taylor, in light of our...improper past and our differing lives, I wonder if we might come to some other mutually pleasing arrangement.”
    “ By the improper past, I assume you mean the fact that we were lovers. But, I confess, the differing lives part confounds me. Are you referring to our differences in social standing?”
    She was, but the razor edge of his voice warned her that admitting it would incite his ire.
    “ Or perhaps we could negotiate.” She dodged his question. “I could repay you over a longer period of time. As a gesture of good faith, I can give you thirty pounds now.”
    Not for anything would she tell him that was nearly every penny she had left, save that necessary for food. The rest of the money would come from somewhere. Later, she would figure out where.
    “ I don’t want you to call me Mr. Taylor, Maddie. Nor do I want your thirty pounds.”
    “ But—”
    “ Even if you repaid me the six thousand, seven hundred eighty-three pounds and twenty pence we established you owe me, and you paid it over five years at five percent interest, you would owe—” he paused, clearly calculating in his head— “one hundred twenty-eight pounds each month, give or take a pence.”
    Icy shock paralyzed her. One hundred twenty-eight pounds? She would owe Brock half of her annual income every month? She, Aimee, Edith, and Vema had lived on little more than that all of last year. How would she ever produce such an enormous sum so often?

    “ I can repay you over ten years.”
    “ No, you couldn’t afford it even then. Keep your thirty pounds.” He cast a disparaging glance at the faded lavender morning dress she wore. “Visit your modiste .”
    Stinging at his slur, she lashed back. “I have no intention of marrying you, so you should take my thirty pounds. It will afford you some satisfaction.”
    Brock leaned back against the sofa, stretching out like the lord of the manor, complete with a confident smile and a hot stare. “Your…company is far more satisfying than you know.”
    She stiffened. “I’ve no intent to satisfy you any way but monetarily, Mr. Taylor.”
    “ You have six days to consider my proposal of marriage. In the interim, you must allow me a proper chance to court you.”
    Court her? Brock had always been a clever boy. Who knew what charming lies the ruthless man would be capable of?
    Though he’d cited business as the primary reason he wished to wed her, Maddie felt certain he had far more personal feelings about this match. The banked fire in his eyes and his carefully chosen words hinted of ulterior motives. None of it matched his angry tone when he called her Lady Wolcott. Why should he be cross about her marriage to Colin? Brock had