The Rake's Midnight Lady Read Online Free PDF

demoralizing a thought to dwell on but it seemed to Abbey that she had somehow become infatuated with the man and, do what she would, he occupied far too many of her thoughts.
    She was just passing through one salon to the next, seeking her aunt, when a firm hand on her elbow brought her up short. Her heart leapt into her throat when she turned and looked up into the face that had become so familiar to her, despite such a brief acquaintance. Hanwood had orchestrated her capture well, taking advantage of a shallow alcove that afforded some small measure of privacy, pulling her unceremoniously into its shelter. ‘You, Miss Margate, are a difficult lady to talk to!’
    Abbey drew in a sharp breath, heart stuttering unevenly in her chest at the heated surge of awareness that flooded her body at his touch. She attempted to pull her arm free but the hand tightened. Hanwood moved a little closer, discreetly shielding her from prying eyes.
    ‘Let go of me!’
    ‘I think not. It has taken me far too long to get you alone.’
    His nearness made the blood sing in her veins, made something deep inside her unfurl once more, reawakening as it savored his nearness. He smelt of subtle scents, a hint of spice, peculiarly male, peculiarly Hanwood . It made her want to draw even nearer, to lay her head against his shoulder and breath him in; tall and strong and infinitely masculine… Abbey moistened her lips and tried to pull herself together. The madness that seemed to possess her body whenever he was near could only be cured by distance. She desperately needed to get away from him and bring her unruly emotions back under control. ‘Do you wish to ruin me?’ she demanded, voice quivering. ‘How must this look if somebody sees us?’
    ‘It will look as if I am making love to you. Believe me, my sweet, it is not unheard of even at these dreary occasions.’
    ‘It is unheard of for me !’ she hissed. ‘I suppose this is punishment because I took those letters.’
    Hanwood looked blank. ‘What letters?’
    ‘Most amusing.’ Abbey said, voice brittle.
    Hanwood frowned down at her. Light suddenly dawned; the ‘country cousin’ had taken Cecile Margate’s letters to his ward Edward. Such had been his preoccupation over the past week that he hadn’t even known they had disappeared. ‘Very enterprising of you,’ he said slowly.  
    Abbey flicked a quick glance up at him from beneath her lashes. ‘I will not return them! They were not yours to take in the first place.’
    ‘Perhaps not,’ he agreed, ‘But the young fool did leave them unsecured on his desk and I was overcome with the heavy perfume that drenched them. Your cousin has a somewhat… florid style.’
    Abbey bit her lip. ‘She is in love, my Lord.’
    ‘So she says. But half the young ladies in London have been setting their cap for him and will continue to do so. He’s an eligible young man. And far too young for marriage.’
    His words acted as a spur to Abbey’s temper. It was so very typical of his highhanded manner. ‘Is that so? Don’t you think it is up to Edward to chose the woman he will marry?’
    Hanwood was inclined to consign both his ward and her cousin to damnation. God knows, he hadn’t given them a thought since he had encountered Abigail in his library. Her nearness was just as intoxicating as their last encounter. Standing so close, her full mouth was a ripe invitation, even more so as it was trembling with wrath. The gown that she wore dipped low across porcelain pale breasts, the soft cleft between a shadowy invitation that begged exploration and Hanwood found himself aroused by her all over again. He had believed that his fascination with his midnight visitor would disappear when he saw her against the social backdrop he tended to despise but instead he found her more alluring than ever. The urge to press her back against the wall while he lowered his head and kissed the soft curve of those luscious breasts was almost overwhelming. He would