Vanity Read Online Free PDF Page B

the room. Octavia drank deeply of the sack before sitting in an armchair to pull off her boots and stockings. With a sigh of relief she wriggled her frozen toes in the fire’s warmth. It hurt dreadfully as they came back to life, but the pain was almost welcome.
    “Take off that gown and put this on. Tab will dry your clothes.”
    In the bliss of warming herself, she’d almost forgotten her abductor and hadn’t heard him return. She looked up, startled. He was holding out a velvet robe, his expression impassive.
    “My gown will dry quite well on my person,” Octavia declared icily.
    “Don’t be a fool, you’ll have an ague by morning if you stay in those clothes.” He dropped the robe into her lap. She continued to stare at him, that delicate, innocent beauty a picture of outraged modesty, and for a moment he was almost persuaded by it.
    But one should never judge a package by the wrapping. She’d fooled him once today already, and he knew her for a consummate actress. She was a grown woman, a thief who worked the streets. And she would have used her body as currency whenever necessary.
    “Don’t pretend it would be the first time you’ve removed your dress in front of a man,” he said with dismissive scorn. “However, I don’t object to the play. Games can add a little spice, I agree.” He smiled but it was not a nice smile. “Shall I turn my back?” He suited action to words.
    Octavia looked for a knife … for anything. She found the poker.
    He caught the chink of iron as it touched the fender and spun round just as she raised the weapon, her little white teeth bared, murder in her eyes.
    “Lord of hell!” He jumped sideways as she brought the poker down with a force that would have cracked his skull. She came after him again and he caught her arm. They swayed in a deadly ballet, and he was surprised at how strong she was—or maybe it was her fury that gave herstrength. Grimly, he twisted her wrist until her fingers opened and the poker clattered to the floor.
    “What on earth was all that about?” he demanded, taking her shoulders and shaking her vigorously. “You would have killed me.”
    “That was my intention,” she said with soft venom. “You dare talk to me like that …”
    “Now, wait a minute!” He held up a hand imperatively. “You’re not going to tell me you’re still a maid.”
    “What gives you the right to assume that I am not!” Golden fires burned in her eyes, and her face was deathly pale. And he knew absolutely that this was no act.
    “Hell and the devil!” He released her and ran a hand over his chin, his mouth twisting ruefully. “How was I to assume otherwise, knowing what I do about you?”
    “You know nothing about me!”
    “No,” he conceded. “Clearly not. Well, for what it’s worth, pray accept my apologies for the uncalled-for assumption, Miss Morgan. And now I suggest you get out of that gown while I turn my face to the wall and contemplate my sin.” He stalked over to the window and stared fixedly out into the driving snow and the darkening afternoon.
    In silence Octavia picked up the robe that she’d tossed to the floor in her fury and turned back to the fire. The wind rattled the windowpanes, and an icy draft needled its way into the room. She knew she couldn’t stay in her soaked clothes. Hastily, she threw off the muslin gown and unfastened the tapes of her whalebone pannier, dropping it to the floor. Shivering in her chemise and starched cambric petticoat, she reached behind her for the laces of her corset.
    “Death and damnation!” Her fingernail broke as she struggled with a knot that had unaccountably developed. Her arms and shoulders began to ache with the twisted position behind her back.
    “Problem with the laces?” The highwayman spoke from the window without turning round. “Perhaps I can help.”
    How could he possibly know! She set her teeth. “Go to the devil!”
    “I’m not unfamiliar with the garment,” he observed, and