The Devilish Montague Read Online Free PDF

have partaken of that last glass of brandy while attempting to ignore the arousing effect that vivacious Venus had on his frustration. He was a hopeless mutton-head when it came to champagne-colored curls and blue eyes.
    More likely, he should not have attempted his friend Fitz’s trick with counting cards. Bernie didn’t like to lose.
    Blake examined the assortment of bloodthirsty weaponry placed at his disposal. Shooting anything might relieve some of his many irritations. He’d far prefer to find a woman than a weapon for physical release, but he’d take what he could get.
    Hair tied unfashionably at the nape, whiskers in need of scraping, and torso stripped to shirtsleeves, embroidered vest, and loosened neckcloth, Blake was aware that he looked the part of disreputable highwayman. Perhaps if he accidentally killed Bernie, he’d take up thievery for a living. But he had no intention of hitting a target as wide as Bernie. The dolt merely needed a layer or two of privilege removed from his hide.
    “‘He’s a most notable coward,’ ” Blake pronounced, the words tripping effortlessly off his well-oiled tongue while he held up a pistol and checked the length of the barrel, “ ‘an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of not one good quality.’”
    Oblivious of his opponent huddled with friends farther down the hedgerow, Blake pointed an ornate Manton at the moon. “ ‘I desire that we be better strangers.’”
    “Damnation, he’s quoting Shakespeare.” Staying dry beneath the spreading branches of an oak, Atherton did not seem overly anxious about Blake’s impending confrontation with death. “We could all drown out here before he’s done.”
    Blake would miss his callous friends if he took up thievery. He wouldn’t, however, miss Miss Carrington’s infectious laugh. Or that riveting cleavage she’d flaunted all evening. Ladies be damned.
    Bernie’s second sounded more concerned than Nick. “We’re supposed to resolve this, not let them further insult each other.”
    “We tried,” Nick noted. “Ogilvie’s the poor sport here.”
    “Montague cheated!” Ogilvie protested, as he had done ever since the drunken party had whooped its way from the duke’s mansion to this distant field. He ignored the proffered box of weapons while he affixed the duke’s molting parrot on a perch he’d planted in the ground. “It’s a matter of honor.”
    The wet creature flapped its wings and squawked a bored protest. “Acck! Friggin’ cock snatcher. Roger her, boyo!”
    The very words that had set Blake off this evening.
    “‘Methink’st thou art a general offense, and every man should beat thee,’ ” Blake quoted, filling his weapon with powder.
    Shoulders propped against the oak, Nick sighed in exasperation. “You’re not on the battlefield anymore, old friend. Let the poor boy toddle to bed and sleep it off. You may not mind fleeing the law for a stint on the Continent, but it’s a damned poor way to treat your host.”
    “That’s Bernie’s choice, not mine,” Blake corrected, testing the sight on the barrel. “It is my duty to defend the delicate sensibilities of the ladies. How can I find a rich one so I might return to war if I allow them to be insulted?” Blake asked. “Although it is hard to come by a wife who wants me dead,” he added with drunken wisdom.
    Bernie’s second lifted a questioning eyebrow.
    “Not a quote,” Nick explained. “Blake needs a dowry to buy colors. He thinks he can run the war better than the current crop of hen-hearted rattle-pates.”
    “You’re serious?” the other man asked in disbelief, water dripping from the brim of his hat.
    Nick shrugged. “He possesses the intellect to run the country but hasn’t a ha’pence to his name. What do you think?”
    “War heroes get titles.” Bernie’s second nodded in understanding.
    “Acck, tup her good, me lad!”
    Maintaining the deadly focus that had kept him alive on the