Too Tempting to Resist Read Online Free PDF Page B

sunlight sparkled through the reflection of her cheeks.
    “Why, I look halfway happy. Halfway carefree.”
    She stared at the unfamiliar image for another flickering instant before forcing her eyes away. “Yes, but if I ever hope to achieve the other half, I had better get to work.”
    Opening her paintbox, Eliza began to mix pigments on her palette. Perhaps on her next visit to the art emporium she would splurge on a few sheets of French laid paper. If Redouté favored the subtle texture for his watercolor washes then it must be—
    Meow.
    Eliza looked up with a frown. “Elf?” she called.
    Another aggrieved yowl, this one sounding fainter.
    Oh dear. What mischief was her cat up to now? Last week he had been sneaking into one of the botanical bandboxes and shredding all of her carefully dried fern plants.
    Setting down her brush, Eliza quickly checked the storage closet. “Elf?” she called again.
    The feline answer seemed to be coming from outside.
    She opened the back door and stepped into the small stone-walled garden. A quick search among the climbing roses yielded no cat. The pink gerberas showed no sign of damage, and the silvery sage was likewise undisturbed, its purple-tipped stalks swaying softly in the gentle breeze.
    “Hmmph.” Mystified, Eliza unlatched the gate and walked a short way up the path.
    Meow.
    She looked left, and then right. And then up.
    “Oh, you silly, silly creature!”
    Elf’s forlorn purr seemed to indicate his agreement.
    “Can’t you come down on your own?” she demanded.
    His tail twitched.
    “Very well.” Rolling her eyes, Eliza edged around a patch of brambles and approached the stately oak overhanging the shaded gravel.
    “Ye gods, why is it that I seem to be surrounded by bacon-brained males?” she muttered as she unlaced her half boots and tugged them off.
    No answer floated down from above.
    “I’m always expected to pull their fat out of the fire. You know, it would be nice if, for once in my life, some Paragon of Masculine Virtue would come to my rescue.”
    Meow.
    “Yes, and if pigs could fly…” Heaving a wry sigh, Eliza reached up and grabbed hold of a branch.

Chapter Two
    G ryff ran a hand over the weathered granite, savoring the contrasting textures of sun-warmed moss and wind-carved stone against his palm. It was one thing to study a portfolio of printed engravings depicting a historic building or landscape. But no matter how detailed, they were no substitute for experiencing the actual site. Bees buzzed in lazy circles around the wildflowers growing amid the Abbey ruins, the low droning a gentle counterpoint to the breeze whispering through the ancient stones.
    Taking a seat on the remains of a wall, he shaded his eyes and admired the view. Fields of green and gold surrounded the knoll, the hawthorn hedgerows and stiles giving way to rolling hills and a ruffling of forest that darkened the valley. Outcroppings of rock dotted the meadow grasses, and in the distance a river meandered through the valley, sunlight glinting off the slow-moving water. Gryff drew in a lungful of the sweet-scented air and leaned back against a slab of granite, letting the pleasant warmth radiate through his coat.
    It was good to be out of London, away from the gritty coal smoke and crowded streets. The light lilt of songbirds was far more soothing to the ear than the guttural curses of costermongers. Country life. The peace and quiet was a reminder that he should be spending more time at his own estate.
    Not, he thought wryly, that Haddan Hall needed him. The estate steward, a man who had been there since Gryff was in leading strings, ran things with the well-oiled precision of a naval chronometer. And yet, over the last year, as he had become more serious in his studies of landscape design, he had begun to visualize some changes to the grounds. The view from the west wing of the main house could be softened with a more natural arrangement of plantings instead of the stiff