The Seduction of Lord Stone Read Online Free PDF Page A

looked lovely in a purple gown of some shiny material that turned her skin to silky cream. And wasn’t that a nonsensical bit of description? Since meeting Caro, he’d fallen victim to poetical fatuity. Damn it, he was a man of science. But nothing in his vials and beakers could compare to her beauty. He had a sick feeling that before he was done, he’d be rhyming June and moon—and calling himself a loon for good measure.
    “Silas, I’ve been thinking about our conversation last night.”
    So, devil take her, had he. “You’ve reconsidered taking a lover?”
    A faint frown appeared between her brows. “No, of course not.”
    “Oh,” he said glumly.
    “This isn’t a whim. I’ve thought long and hard about my plans.” It was her turn to sound glum. “The world leaves widows a lot of time to think. I’ve had more than a year to mull over my intentions.”
    He’d spent a year mulling over his intentions, too. He’d been planning a journey down the aisle. She’d been planning a progress from one lucky sod’s bed to the next. The most galling element was that she seemed ready to consider any fool in London as a potential lover. Except for one Silas Nash.
    It was enough to drive a fellow stark, staring mad.
    “I don’t believe you’ve thought of the consequences,” he said, wishing he could come up with something scary enough to deter her.
    Her blue eyes remained steady. “I suppose you mean pregnancy.”
    He brightened. Yes, that would fit the bill perfectly. It said something for his distraction that he hadn’t immediately mentioned the possibility. “It’s a risk.” He paused. “Especially after vigorous and prolonged sexual activity.”
    He’d shoot the scoundrel who invited her to partake of such activity. If anyone was going to talk her into bed, it was him. Then he’d give her vigorous and prolonged until she was dizzy with pleasure. He’d panted after Caro for an eon. He had a lot of energy to burn off.
    He’d hoped his plain speaking might discourage her. Of course it didn’t. Instead that damnably guileless gaze fastened on his face. “I want a lover worthy of the name. A bit of heat is well overdue.”
    Good God, her frankness compounded his torment. He shifted on his spindly seat to relieve his discomfort and thanked heaven that the poor light hid his swift physical reaction. A bit of heat? At this rate, the Theatre Royal would go up in flames before Almaviva won the caterwauling Rosina.
    “What will you do if you find yourself with child?” How ironic that he, the great debaucher, counseled prudence. Somewhere the angels were laughing their heads off at him.
    “I was married for ten years without conceiving.” Fleeting sadness dulled her eyes. “The most obvious conclusion is that I’m barren.”
    Her prosaic tone didn’t deceive him. He forgot his schemes and wounded pride, and only remembered that he hated to see her unhappy. He took the slender gloved hand resting on the box’s edge. “I’m sorry, Caro.”
    For a moment, her hand lay in his and he hoped she might at last confide in him about her marriage. Only after she brought her fears into the light could he vanquish them. But to his regret, she swiftly resumed her social mask and withdrew. The warmth of her touch lingered. For a year, his love had survived on these small crumbs. He felt like he slowly starved to death.
    She attempted a smile. “I’ve been listing candidates.”
    He straightened in his chair, the need to assuage her heartache battling with his primitive masculine compulsion to see off all competitors. “Oh?”
    She nodded with every appearance of confidence, but the hands she twined together betrayed uncertainty. Was that a sign that she wasn’t as set on this path as she sounded? He stifled the urge to tell her to give up this tomfoolery and marry him. Last night’s quarrel had been a sharp reminder that he could still lose this game.
    When he didn’t question her sanity the way he had at her