The Maverick's Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

he took off his black hat and started across the room in her direction. Instantly the commotion began again.
    “What is the meaning of this?” Lord Delamere’s voice rose over the hubbub.
    “Sir, this man insists on entering the consulate without invitation,” a servant explained apologetically.
    “Adam King?” Lord Delamere blinked in confusion. “I had no idea you were in Mombasa.”
    The taller man halted. “I’m here, D. Mind if I join you?”
    “Not at all, sir. Do come in.” Lord Delamere smiled and shook his guest’s hand. He turned back to the musicians. “Carry on, carry on!”
    As the violins sounded again, the dancers drew their eyes away from the tall rancher. Lord Delamere rejoined his colleagues at the fireplace. Emma decided it was time to find her sister and retire. But Nicholas gripped her elbow as Adam King made his way through the swirling skirts.
    “Good evening, Miss Pickering.” The American’s blue eyes fixed on Emma’s as he acknowledged her companion with a nod. “Bond.”
    “Good evening, Mr. King.” Emma extended her hand, and this time he lifted it to his lips. His thick hair, glossy in the lamplight, shone a blue-black.
    “What do you want, King?” Nicholas’s tone was hostile. “You can have no good purpose in joining our company.”
    “But I do. I came to return these.” Adam reached into the pocket of his black trousers and pulled out Emma’s lavender gloves.
    Her cheeks grew warm as she took them. “My goodness—I thought I would never see these again. Thank you so much, Mr. King. How kind of you.”
    “Yes, well done, sir,” Nicholas said. “Now if you’ll excuse us—”
    “Mr. Bond, would you be so good as to see to my sister’s welfare?” Emma heard herself ask. “Cissy was greatly fatigued this afternoon.”
    Nicholas stared at her.
    “I believe I owe Mr. King the next dance,” she went on. “In gratitude for returning my gloves.”
    He opened his mouth to protest, then obviously thought better of it. “Of course, Miss Pickering,” he consented. “I am happy to oblige.”
    As he stepped away, Emma noted Adam’s amused expression. “Perhaps I spoke out of turn, sir,” she said. “Normally I am not so bold.”
    “Aren’t you? You were mighty bold this afternoon on the pier.” His mouth curved into a warm smile. “You took control of the situation without stopping to think about consequences. That’s good. A woman needs courage in this country.”
    “Thank you. I have been trained as a nurse, you see.”
    He searched her eyes. “But your father said—”
    “My father disapproves. Nevertheless, I have undertaken rigorous instruction at Miss Nightingale’s school in St. Thomas’s Hospital.”
    “I don’t know who Miss Nightingale is, but I’m sure shehas a fine school.” He stood before her, making no move to dance. “Miss Pickering, do you—”
    The music stopped and Adam’s question with it. Clutching her lavender gloves, Emma peered around his broad shoulder to see Nicholas striding across the room toward them. She looked back at Adam. Now strains of the “Blue Danube” waltz began to swell in the warm air.
    “Mr. Bond has completed his mission, I see,” she said. “Thank you once again for returning my gloves, Mr. King.”
    Nicholas slipped his arm beneath Emma’s. But as he moved to lead her away, Adam stepped in front of him. “Just a minute, Bond. I believe I was promised a dance with this young lady.”
    “Mr. King.” Nicholas spoke the name in a steely voice. “Miss Pickering offered you the last dance. Now I’ve returned. If you will excuse us, please.”
    “No, I won’t excuse you.” Adam loomed over the Englishman. “But I will thank you to take your hands off the lady until I’ve had my dance.”
    Nicholas’s eyes blazed. “And I’ll thank you to hold your tongue. I am Miss Pickering’s escort this evening. Have you no manners, sir?”
    “Don’t talk to me about manners, Bond. I was invited to