Tall, Dark and Disreputable Read Online Free PDF

repairing one of the arches, judging from the steady ring of hammer against stone. He watched them idly until he reached the fork in the lane, and then he turned his mount’s head in the direction of the house.
    Until suddenly his brain processed what his eyes had just seen. He hauled on the reins, startling the animal, and spun him swiftly around. Raising a hand, he cast his best weather eye towards the lake again. Yes. One of the labourers had moved to the edge of the stone pedestal and into view. A labourer in skirts.
    A sharp bark of laughter broke free. Yes, he mused, men did die. Enterprises failed, empires grew and nations were born. Mateo had learned that lesson the hard way. One had only to look about with an unjaundiced eye to know that change and upheaval were the only persevering truths in this life.
    Perhaps that explained, then, why he should be struck with unexpected delight at the odd tableau before him. It was something of a relief to discover that some things never did change.
    The ghost of a smile flitted about his mouth. It waseven more of a relief to once again find pleasure in a simple, unexpected moment. He let the stranglehold on his anger slip—just a little—and spurred his mount towards the lake.

Chapter Three
    ‘T hat’s done it now, Mrs Tofton.’
    Portia’s ears still rang from the blow of the mallet. Her foreman’s voice sounded tinny and distant, though he loomed close by her side.
    ‘You can let go. That’s the last one.’
    She did, shaking out the strain in her arms and stepping back. The damaged pedestal of her stone arch bridge was nearly repaired, she saw with satisfaction.
    ‘Aye, that does it,’ Newman echoed her sentiment. ‘A bit of mortar and it’ll be right as rain.’ He turned as another man splashed up. ‘We’ll not be needing another block after all, Billings. You can throw that one back in the cart. We’re nearly done now.’
    Billings turned, but cast a resentful eye back towards the bridge. ‘Can I be gettin’ back to the orchard now? New branches don’t train themselves.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ Portia grasped her water-logged skirts and started back towards shore, as well. ‘Thankyou, Billings. I am sorry I had to tear you away from your trees.’ She sighed. ‘Perhaps next year we shall be able to hire some more permanent labourers.’
    ‘Aye, well, and if you do, let them waddle after Newman here. I’m fine alone in the orchard, but if you be wantin’ a crop this year or next, you’ll be lettin’ me get on with me work.’
    ‘Oh, go on, you old crosspatch,’ she said, smiling over her shoulder at him. ‘Newman, can you finish up on your own? I suppose I must get back to the house and change before our company arrives.’
    ‘You’ve left it a bit late.’ Billings shifted his burden and spat casually into the water. ‘Leastaways, you did if your company’s dark, broad as that yonder oak and near as tall.’
    Portia’s gaze followed the thrust of his chin towards the shore before the impact of his words truly hit her. With a gasp, she splashed to a halt and dropped her skirts. A horse stood tethered near the pony cart they had used to transport stone and supplies, and striding down the slight incline towards the water came Mateo Cardea.
    Tall and strong, with sun glinting off his dark curls and shining boots, he advanced with a purposeful tread. Portia’s mouth gaped open as he failed to stop at the shore’s edge, but the chiselled lines of his face were set and determined. Without hesitation he strode right into the water and towards her. She stared, noting his furrowed brow and the large straw hat dangling from his fingers.
    Water sloshed around her knees as he drew to a halt in front of her. Her breath caught.
    And then he smiled.
    Unfair! The cry emanated from the vulnerable part of Portia’s soul, the one that she had spent just this morning locking away. It was a nonsensical notion, but the sudden pounding of her heart felt eerily