The Demon's Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page B

behave in a chilly manner to show that she was not a gullible fool. As it was, she let him place her hand in the crook of his arm, and strolled with him.
    â€œEveryone’s watching,” she said, though she knew she shouldn’t. She was in control of this adventure, wasn’t she?
    â€œI’m sure you are watched anyway, Golden Lily.”
    â€œI’m used to that, but not to this.” How absurd to feel that she could talk honestly to him like this. Of course, apart from Harriette, he was the only one aware of their purpose. “I’m probably not looking as dazzled as I should.”
    â€œI’ll be dazzled for both of us.” When she glanced sideways at him, she saw how his smiling eyes were intent on her. “Some wariness on your part is doubtless realistic,” he added. “You are too wise to actually marry me, after all.”
    She smiled at the joke, but it pressed on an old wound. Her feelings were too like the lunatic infatuations she’d succumbed to when young, culminating in Maurice. She had a weakness for dashing, handsome, dangerous men, but she was no longer young and silly. Had she learned nothing?
    Cool air startled her back to the immediate, and she realized he had led her out onto a small balcony. They were still in view, but it gave some protection from being overheard. It also must cause more talk.
    What point in balking, though? She was about to be society’s favorite topic of amusement for six long weeks. It was a price she would pay to right a wrong.
    â€œThank you for coming,” she said, wafting her fan and gazing out over the lamplit garden below.
    â€œYou thought I wouldn’t pay my debt?”
    A sudden chill in his voice made her turn to him. “I didn’t mean it that way. You were . . . The need to—”
    â€œMadam, you have bought me—body, mind, and most of my soul—for six weeks. I will go where you command, speak as you wish, act as you instruct, so long as it does not offend the part of my soul I have retained.”
    Oh dear. Pain and wounded pride. She must remember that though war had aged him in many ways, he could still be tender in others.
    â€œExcellent,” she said coolly, returning to the safe contemplation of the garden. “You are playing your part well, my lord, so please continue to act as if you were intent on winning me.” She glanced back with a carefully calculated smile. “I doubt that will hazard your immortal soul.”
    They confronted each other for a moment in silence, and she nervously broke into chatter. “The lamps in the garden are pretty, are they not? I wonder if there is a way to explore there.”
    Her gloved right hand rested on the iron railing, and he covered it with his left. A hand brown from years of sun and weather, strong with sinews and veins, long-fingered, marked by many minor scars. A hand that looked older than he was. A fine hand perhaps meant by nature for softer ways, for music, for art, for gentle love . . .
    â€œI would know that I had little hope,” he said, curling his fingers around hers and lifting her hand from the railing, turning her toward him. “A penniless man with dilapidated estates, and eight years younger than you.”
    â€œTrue . . .”
    He brought her hand between them, chest high, and in the process angled his body so that he shielded her from the crowded room. “The only reason you would consider my suit is for my looks and charm. Poor Mrs. Celestin,” he added with a glint of edged humor, “you are going to have to succumb to looks and charm.”
    â€œI would hardly be the first widow to do so. I’m sure I can play the part.” She returned exactly the same sort of edged look. “It’s not as if I am actually going to place my person and my fortune in your hands, after all.”
    â€œJust the additional nine thousand pounds.”
    â€œ If you