The Duke’s Desire Read Online Free PDF Page B

stains. I really think you should reconsider.”
    “Rhodes, I promise I shall not throw my clothes onto the floor or over a chair, and there is no danger of grass stains here.”
    Rhodes’s expression grew rather conniving. “Is there, perhaps, a lady…?”
    “As much as I know it disappoints you, given the exciting life you no doubt thought I would lead when I engaged you upon my return to London,no, there is no lady. There is no gambling, there is no drinking, there is no cockfighting, bearbaiting or whoring, either. In short, Rhodes, my life is as dull as a man’s could be, and tonight, I intend to read.” Galen gave his manservant a very pointed look. “Good night.”
    Rhodes became mobile, albeit barely. He headed toward the door, looking as if he expected to be informed this was some kind of outrageous joke and he the butt of it. “You’re going to sit up and read the Times? ”
    “If you find that so surprising, I could always dismiss you, I suppose.”
    Rhodes recoiled, then hurried out the door as if pursued by demons. “Good night, Your Grace! Enjoy the Times! ”
    With a sound between a sigh and a chuckle, Galen closed the door behind his fleeing valet, then glanced at the ornate clock on the mantelpiece. Nearly midnight.
    He strolled toward the windows, which looked over the spacious lawn and winding drive leading to Eloise’s manor. The moonlight shone brightly, illuminating the scene with only the occasional shadow of a cloud. He could smell the damp in the air, hinting at rain to come.
    This view was very different from the one out his bedroom when he had visited Lord Langley in Yorkshire. There, the house had been nestled in avalley in a vain attempt to shield it from the winds and rain that blew across the dales.
    The wind had been blowing that night ten years ago, making the single tree near the house moan as it bent and swayed.
    At least he thought it had been the tree. Perhaps it had been himself moaning, for quite a different reason.
    Staring unseeing out the window, he remembered the events of that night as he had a thousand times before.
    After an evening spent with the utterly boring Lord Langley and barely noticing the shy miss who had sat in the corner like a mouse expecting him to pounce, for once not half-drunk, he had been awakened by the soft sound of his door opening. Then came the glow of a single candle’s flame.
    There had been something almost supernatural about that glow that made him sit up straight. He ignored the chill of the air upon his naked chest, which rose and fell with his rapid breathing.
    Holding the candle, her long brown hair unbound, and wearing a simple white nightdress, Verity came into his room.
    He would have been only slightly less surprised if she had been a ghost. He wondered if she walked in her sleep, and he waited to see what she would do. He had heard it was not wise to wake someone in that state, and given that she held a candle, hedidn’t want to startle her and make her drop it upon her thin nightdress.
    It was very thin, so thin he could see her rosy nipples clearly, and the darker triangle lower down. A simple drawstring at the neck was all the closing it had. One pull, and it would loosen and fall.
    She came straight to his bed and set the candle down on the table beside him before looking directly at him.
    He knew immediately that she was as wide-awake as he.
    Completely taken aback, he started to speak—but she leaned toward him and laid one slender finger against his lips. Then she gently traced their outline.
    It was a simple gesture, yet one that had set his blood pounding fiercely in his veins, firing his desire more than another woman’s boldest caress.
    He could smell the light perfume of her naked skin mingling with the candle’s wax and see how her nightgown grew taut over her unexpectedly voluptuous breasts.
    When she moved back, he felt a loss as great as another might for a fortune sunk to the bottom of the sea—until she pulled