Three Nights of Sin Read Online Free PDF Page B

look like a well-contented cat. It obviously made women want to stroke him, if Carla’s reaction to it was anything to go by. And Marietta had to admit that the image caused her fingers to itch too.
    She curled her fingers into her palms with enough force to break the skin.
    Carla strode from the room without looking at her, and she could hear the maid’s footsteps down the stairs.
    “You.” She pointed her finger at him, too angry to care that it was shaking.
    “Me,” he said mockingly. “The man who procured your brother’s journal for you.” He threw the book at her feet.
    She knelt and placed her hand on the leather cover, her anger and anxiety dissipating like steam to be replaced with confusion and uncertainty. “What?”
    “Are you going to tell me that you weren’t standing outside the door the whole time, Marietta?”
    She stared at him, uncomprehending. She was so tired all of a sudden—the last seventy hours collapsing in on her without something solid like anger to hold the cards up. Exhausted. And here was a man who completely unnerved her. Who seemed to carelessly flick cards at random, occasionally taking a swipe at the bottom of the stack, destroying the foundation for everything above.
    “Well, do you want it?” Something dark laced his tone. “Or shall I leave it here for your loving maid to sell to the highest bidder?”
    He was angry with her? What gave him the right? He was the one using his wiles left and right. Her rage returned full force. “I wouldn’t want your efforts to go to waste. Perhaps I should leave you here to sex all the information right out of her.”
    “Using me for my physical services, I’m aghast.” His voice was mocking, but there was a dangerous undercurrent. An eddy that threatened to drag her under.
    “You seemed to be doing it well on your own.”
    “Thank you for your compliment.”
    “It wasn’t a compliment,” she said, her lips nearly cracking from the force required to utter the words. “It was an accusation.”
    “An accusation. How trite. You asked for my help, Miss Winters.”
    Her fingernails dug into her left palm. She picked up the journal, shaking it in his direction from the floor. “Were you going to give me this if I hadn’t walked in on the two of you?”
    “And here I thought you trusted me.” His voice was nonchalant.
    “I don’t trust you at all. A sin would be less dangerous.”
    He was suddenly squatting in front of her, having moved too quickly for her to react. He ran his thumb over the leather top of the journal, the tip brushing her fingers.
    “That’s a shame, Marietta.” His voice held the low hum of an ocean wave at night. “If you don’t trust me, your brother is going to hang. And I guarantee that you will still be serving me. Three services. Three tasks. Three nights of sin?”
    His fingertips moved along the side of her hand and then lifted. The most dangerous man she’d ever met crouched in front of her. Terrifying in the responses he caused, created , in her.
    “I want to know if you were going to give me the journal,” she whispered, unable to do anything else.
    He leaned toward her, his lips mere inches from hers. “And what makes you think I will answer?” he whispered back, a sensual edge to his voice.
    Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Frozen, Marietta waited for him to move. And waited. The footsteps grew closer. A foot hit the top of the steps.
    His mouth curved, so close she could see the fine lines on his lips. She shoved away from him, standing and clutching the journal in front of her chest.
    “We couldn’t locate your parasol.”
    Marietta processed Carla’s words without turning. “Bring Mister—bring this—bring this gentleman something to drink, Carla. I’m sure he will appreciate the gesture.”
    She heard a strangled growl before the footsteps retreated once more.
    “Poor Carla. Do you always abuse your staff so?”
    She gripped the journal more tightly. His smooth, mocking voice.