Sweet as the Devil Read Online Free PDF Page A

added with a grin, “why do you want to know, my dear Sofia? I doubt it’s about a painting.”
    “I’m not entirely sure.”
    “You’re blushing.” He was surprised; Sofia was a sophisticated woman who treated men with nonchalance.
    “I admit something about him beyond his obvious beauty engaged my interest. He exudes a quiet power and authority, although perhaps that intrinsic air of command comes from his military background. In any case, I found him fascinating.” She smiled at Rosalind. “Like one of your romantic heroes.” Rosalind had written erotic romances before her marriage to Fitz.
    The duchess grinned. “Perhaps you should think about a holiday in Scotland.”
    Sofia laughed. “I could appear on his doorstep and ask for directions.”
    “If you could find his doorstep,” Fitz drolly noted. “His estate in the Highlands is beyond the rail lines and normal roads. The last few miles require a trek on horseback.”
    “It sounds as though you’re going to need a good tracker,” Oz playfully observed. “May I offer my services?”
    “Certainly not,” Sofia said with a moue. “I’m intrigued, not deranged. I shan’ t be stalking the elusive baron.”
    “Nor would you be successful even if you did,” Fitz remarked. “Jamie’s an excellent tracker himself, a worldclass shot, not to mention Prince Ernst’s savior from assassination on several occasions. You wouldn’t get within a five-mile radius of his house without being seen.”
    “A true professional,” Sofia murmured, picturing the splendid Jamie as some warrior of old defending his lands—dressed in a kilt or perhaps in the chain mail of the Balkan mountain tribes. “Obviously the man’s beyond range,” she added with a small sigh, “in every sense of the word.”
    “Perhaps not,” Fitz rebutted. “Consider, he has to pass through London on his way back to Dalmia. Something can be arranged. He’s single, by the way; did I mention that?”
    “Hardly a requirement for amorous amusements in the ton,” Sofia returned with a cynical lift of her brows.
    “True. But he prefers his bachelor state. Or so he’s told me on more than one occasion.”
    “As if,” Isolde waggishly noted, “any of you men are interested in relinquishing your bachelor state until such a time—”
    “As we are.” Leaning over, Oz kissed his wife’s cheek. “For which good fortune I constantly thank the gods,” he added with an affectionate smile. “Now then, I say we put in a good word for you, Sofia. Fitz and I both know Jamie; I became friends with him a few years ago in Trieste.”
    “Sharing common amusements no doubt,” Isolde quipped, gently patting her husband’s hand, careful not to wake the baby, who’d fallen asleep on her papa’s lap.
    Oz grinned. “Since it was long before I met you, I’m allowed to say yes. I was invited to join his yachting party, and we spent a fortnight sailing the Adriatic. He has a home on one of the islands that was built by an ancestor enamored with Diocletian’s palace at Split.”
    Fitz glanced at Oz. “The pool is unusual.”
    “Very. Another ancestor apparently had a taste for Byzantine excess.”
    “Gold mosaics,” Fitz interposed with a smile for the women. Along with murals depicting explicit sexual acts.
    “A home on the Adriatic? He sounds even more enticing now,” Sofia grumbled. “And I don’t have a chance in hell of seeing him again.”
    “Anything is possible, darling,” Oz drawled with the certainty of an extremely wealthy man. “You need but ask.”
    Sofia laughed. “You would dragoon him into my bed?”
    “Since he’s met you, I doubt dragooning is required,” Oz pleasantly replied. “I was thinking more along the lines of a polite invitation to stop by for drinks on his way back to Dalmia.”
    “Please, spare me the embarrassment. I mean it,” she firmly said to the mischievous gleam in Oz’s eyes. “Now, I’m quite finished with this entire