The Water's Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page A

him as kiss him.
    He arched his eyebrows, the expression making him more attractive, her stomach tightening with the pain of rejection. “And you, Lady Claire, should know that the same holds true for many men.”
    “What do you mean?” asked Julia. Evan let out a sound of disbelief. Julia looked at him quizzically, then at Claire, and then her mouth opened slightly and she nodded once, as if to acknowledge the deeper implications.
    “Men cannot choose their wives? You are equating the role of women and men in courtship, Mr. Michaelson? Are you certain you did not injure more than your leg at war? Your thinking seems impaired,” Claire blurted. She was breathing hard, her clothing oppressive, her body angry and smothered by so many layers.
    So many rules.
    He reached for her gloved hand and startled her, bending slightly, his lips pressing against the cloth, murmurs creating small vibrations that seemed centered on the tender flesh of her belly. “Forgive me. I have clearly offended you.”
    Anything but this. Claire could handle being angry with him. Could manage any condescension he might inflict. Could even muddle through watching him dance with another.
    But right this very moment, his apology and the view of his lips on her hand made her light up with passion and pain, the blend so flurried she needed an escape.
    “And furthermore!” Claire added. “If you are going to besmirch my family’s reputation, my sweet cousin’s honor, please kindly do it in the manner of polite company – with whispers behind fans at soirees and in salons, hisses and moans in a lover’s ear on country visits – and not in the middle of Hyde Park in broad daylight.” And with that she hooked her arm in Julia’s and the two women stormed off, her sister now joining her in the art of angry offense, leaving Evan to stand there sputtering apologies that were a balm for Claire’s aggrieved heart and body. The buzzing faded as she stepped further from him, though the abatement was temporary.
    She knew she would not rest for as long as she lived if she could not be with Evan. Yet why, oh why, had he not fought for her? Papa’s words stung.
    Thank goodness Papa had not paired her with the Earl of Framingshire. However, a worse thought invaded – she truly had no choice. Papa could pick someone far worse than Framingshire, and she, like her cousin Ana, could be judged for the pairing.
    Ah, her heart hurt.

    What just happened? Evan felt as if he had just been beaten about the face and neck by fists of words, all administered from Claire Hanscombe’s sensual, delicate, lovely mouth.
    He was bruised in his mind, pained in his heart.
    And tight everywhere.
    Worse, yet, was the news that Framingshire had managed to wed one of the Hanscombe cousins. Framingshire! The weaselly rake of the ton ! The admirably promiscuous earl of proclivities so notoriously libertine in their spirit that the man was considered a walking disease.
    How the Viceroy of New Granada had possibly considered Framingshire a good match for one of his daughters was beyond Evan’s comprehension. He had heard the stories from his mother about the scandal caused by Lady Katherine’s marriage to the swarthy Spaniard a generation ago, when King George III had been on the throne, as the New England colonies rebelled. His mother had fixated on the story so much that, now that Evan had aged a bit, he wondered whether jealousy, as much as pure enjoyment of repeating the tale, were part of what fueled his own mother’s outrage.
    “That Manuel de Vargas had his eyes set on Georgina Harper, he did, you know,” his mother had sniffed. “But she chose the earl instead, and could you blame her? An earl or a no-name Spanish army officer. Any woman in her right mind would have made the same choice.” His mother’s eyes had become unfocused and a bit dreamy as she recounted details from five and twenty years past.
    “So Lady Katherine was not in her right mind?” he had teased