Smuggler's Lair Read Online Free PDF

enjoyable is considered a sin. My mother is so straitlaced, she worships at the altar of respectability. I am restricted to the point of suffocation.” Tory was struck by a sudden thought. “Did you give a party a few days ago, Lord Hawkhurst?”
    â€œI did,” he acknowledged.
    â€œI saw it! I watched from the minstrels’ gallery! I thought it was a masquerade because everyone was in Georgian dress! Oh, don’t you see, that night I came back in time for just a moment. I had a tantalizing taste of the banquet that was to come.”
    â€œYour metaphor has me half convinced,” he drawled. Falcon made no effort to hide his amusement. “Tell me more.”
    â€œI coveted the gorgeous gowns and the ladies’ jewels, but I was shocked at their licentious behavior and the bawdy atmosphere.”
    â€œI suppose through an innocent’s eyes it would seem rather ribald. Since you’ve come back in time, you might as well experience one of my affairs.”
    â€œYou think I’m deranged.... You’re humoring me.”
    And enjoying every mad moment. “Then you must humor me.”
    â€œI’ve nothing to wear to one of your . . . affairs.” She felt her cheeks warming. She knew he’d used the word affair deliberately.
    â€œThat’s easily remedied. There’s a wardrobe full of feminine attire in the chamber below this one. Belonged to my . . . sister.” He substituted the word sister for mistress. “The baggage prefers London to Sussex and slung her hook. That’s a sailors’ term.”
    I thought it was a pirates’ term.
    â€œThat is most generous. May I get something to wear now?”
    â€œAbsolutely not. I want you to strut about in your drawers and stays this evening. They fascinate me.” You fascinate me.
    The bold devil knows I’m at a disadvantage in my underclothes and thinks me easier to control. He still suspects I’m spying on him; therefore there must be something he is trying to conceal.
    They heard the scratching on the door at the same time. “That must be Pandora.” He walked to the door to open it.
    â€œPandora?” she asked warily.
    â€œMy leopard. Don’t fret, she’s gentle as a pussy, so long as I’m here, of course.”
    Tory ran back to the bed and climbed up on it. With her heart in her mouth, she watched Falcon open the door. In strolled the leopard, carrying something in its mouth.
    Falcon scratched the big cat behind her ear and she affectionately rubbed herself against his leg. “What’s this?” he asked, taking a small silk bag from the leopard’s mouth.
    â€œThat’s mine,” Tory said breathlessly.
    â€œPandora is perfectly safe.” He handed Tory the embroidered bag and held out his hand. “Come down and I’ll introduce you.”
    She clutched her bag with one hand and grasped his with the other. Never taking her eyes from the leopard, she allowed Falcon to help her climb down from the bed. She stood rigid while Pandora first sniffed at her, then licked her hand with a rough tongue. Some of her fear evaporated, but a healthy wariness remained. “How did you come to own a leopard?”
    â€œI was opening crates of tea, a cargo I acquired from an East Indiaman. I lifted the lid of a box, and there she was. She was only a kit at the time, young enough to train. It amused me to teach her to be a watchcat. The name Pandora suggested itself.”
    â€œUnbelievable,” she murmured.
    â€œRather like your story,” he drawled.
    Tory watched the leopard stretch its length on the carpet and when it began to purr, her apprehension lessened. She opened the drawstrings of her bag and took out the folded note. “Here is my invitation from Sir Peregrine.”
    He took the paper and read it. It was dated 17 August 1837. It was addressed to the Honorable Victoria Carswell at the priory, Hawkhurst, Sussex. It extended