The Scoundrel's Lover Read Online Free PDF Page A

fisted at her sides like she wanted to strike him in defense of Crispin. “Why would you do such a thing to him?”
    Marcus arched a brow at the fire in her. There, hidden in proper depths, was a flash of the same wildness that her brothers possessed. That Flynn quality that made them all the rage even as it cloaked them in notoriety.
    “For his protection,” he said softly. “Your brother, I’m afraid, was very deep in his cups, trying to gamble away a small fortune. He was also thrashing about and spoiling for a fight. Tying him to the bed inside was the best method of protecting him from himself. And others.”
    Her fists relaxed and she tilted her head in question. “Tied to…to a bed? Why would you have a bed in a gambling hall public room?”
    “Surely you are not so innocent, Miss Flynn.”
    Her lips thinned. “I am a lady, Mr. Rivers.”
    He forced himself not to smile so that she would not again believe he was mocking her. “An unconventional one, I think,” he said, watching her every caught breath, her dilating pupils, her shaking hands. “I saw you watching when you came in. Taking in the men and women who come here to…play together. Certainly you cannot think that only happens in the main hall.”
    She swallowed hard, but did not deny his accusation that she had played the voyeur in his hall. “I see.”
    She took a moment, and he watched her gather herself, calm herself until her emotions were covered and she was once again the collected lady.
    “And there just happened to be rope in the room where you tied him?”
    He smiled. “Silken rope, Miss Flynn. I assure you it is nothing that will harm him. It was left there by a very special patroness.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    She said the words, but Marcus was more than aware of the flash of heat in her stare that told him otherwise. There was something more to Miss Annabelle Flynn that he never would have seen if she hadn’t come to his lair. And oh, how he was enjoying this. Far more than he should.
    “Some of the members here like to be tied, Miss Flynn,” he explained. “To lose all control.”
    Her lips parted slightly and her tongue darted out to wet them. Marcus felt the action deep in his groin, and the responding need was all too powerful.
    “I can’t believe someone would want that,” she whispered.
    He leaned in, unable to help himself. “You have no idea.”
    Marcus could picture her now, spread out on his bed, helpless to his ministrations. Writhing to reach him.
    Blinking, he turned back to the door. “Now that you understand, let us go in.”
    He opened the door, and the man he had put in the room to watch Crispin immediately rose. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of proper Annabelle, despite the protection of her mask.
    “You may go, thank you,” Marcus said softly.
    The man bowed his head and left the room, shutting the door behind himself. It was only then that Marcus looked at Annabelle.
    She stood just a few steps inside the chamber, staring across the room at her brother. Crispin had been tied to the bed, but at some point he had obviously stopped thrashing and passed out. He lay limply on the mattress, the extra-long cords of the bindings loose at his wrists.
    “Oh, Crispin,” she said softly, moving toward him with uncertain steps.
    Flynn jerked his head up and let out a low groan of pain, but he didn’t open his eyes. Marcus saw Annabelle’s face crumple ever so slightly, a flash of emotion she hadn’t meant to reveal, if the way she covered it was any indication.
    “Crispin,” she whispered, but again he made no reply. Her eyes widened, and she let out a cry as she dove toward him, grasping one of his tied hands. “Crispin!” she cried out.
    Marcus moved toward her, despite knowing it was foolish to do so, and took a long breath. He was going to touch her. It was going to be heaven and hell at once.
    Slowly, he leaned forward and let his hands close gently over her shoulders. “Annabelle,”