The Third Heiress Read Online Free PDF Page A

without hard facts.” The American was speaking again. Alex.
    “Accusations,” Thomas repeated harshly. “Don’t tell me not to accuse her, Alex, on several counts. Damn it.”
    “I’m not telling you what to do. But Uncle William is right. This is a tough time, not the time to be rash.”
    Someone was leaning over her. Jill tensed, afraid to be discovered pretending to still be passed out. “Miss Gallagher?” It was Alex speaking again.
    Jill was distressed. She opened her eyes, tears burning her lids, despising them all now, her instincts trying to scream some kind of warning at her. Her gaze instantly met his.
    His eyes were surprisingly blue, his skin swarthy, his hair short, black, and curly. They stared at one another. He soon straightened to his full height—and he was tall, perhaps six feet or more. “She’s conscious.” Alex
continued to stare down at her. His gaze was piercing, and suddenly Jill was afraid that he knew she had been conscious for some time now—and eavesdropping on them all.
    Jill started to sit up, but immediately was overcome with dizziness again.
    Lauren looked down at her. “You fainted. Perhaps you should lie still for another moment or two.”
    “This has never happened before,” Jill said hoarsely, embarrassed and wanting nothing more than to recover her strength and flee the room, and all of them. She had fainted—and that was not the same as those blackouts. “I didn’t eat.” How inane that comment sounded. Her gaze shifted to the three men as she tried to sit up, this time successfully. They were all gazing at her. She could identify them now. William was tall but paunchy and tired-looking, with a full head of white hair, and he was, she thought, well into his seventies, but still attractive for his age. In his double-breasted, navy blue blazer, his tan slacks and signet ring, he looked exactly the way she had expected a wealthy, blue-blooded aristocrat to look.
    Thomas was his heir. He was the oldest of the siblings. Hal had mentioned more than once that his brother, whom he had adored, was an incorrigible playboy with the kind of looks and charm few women seemed capable of resisting. Jill had avoided looking his way until now, but she would have to be blind not to notice that he was every bit as drop-dead good-looking as Hal had said. His dark blond hair was sun-streaked, he was tanned, and he had the kind of muscular but not bulky body that obviously worked out vigorously at the gym. His features were more than classic, they were strong and male—the high cheekbones and strong jaw giving way to a surprisingly full and sensual mouth. He was wearing a black Polo shirt and tan trousers, a gold Rolex, Gucci loafers. Jill had expected handsome and she had expected chic. He looked like a jet-setter and a full-time playboy. Jill bet he had a dissipated lifestyle. Jill also knew that Thomas was divorced, and that his two small sons lived most of the year with their mother.
    Jill realized she was staring, worse, that he knew it, for his gaze had locked with hers. She flushed. The look he sent her was cold and cutting. His message could not be louder—Jill had no doubt that he found her entirely lacking, at least in appearance. Clearly he disapproved of her faded jeans and “boyfriend” jacket, if not of herself. Clearly, like Lauren, he blamed her for Hal’s death.
    She should have realized that this would be her reception. Maybe she was a fool for having come. But how could she not attend Hal’s funeral?
    “Introductions are in order,” Alex said, cutting into her thoughts.
    Jill met his eyes again as he stepped forward. The heat remained in her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, more to him, but really for everyone’s benefit.
    His nod was curt; his gaze shifted. Clearly he was as unsympathetic as everyone else. “Stress, shock, it happens.” He was matter-of-fact.
    Jill found herself regarding him. Hal had said his cousin was originally from Brooklyn, but