When a Duke Says I Do Read Online Free PDF Page B

me to leave? I’d quite understand if you did.”
    His finely carved mouth moved slightly, almost as if he were trying not to smile. And he shook his head.
    “Good then. I shan’t bother you any more. I’ll just read and, well”—she said impishly—“does my talking bother you? I would like to talk to you.” She walked over to her couch and sat upon it in a ladylike pose, part of her knowing she should leave. “Would you like to know why I wander about the manor house at night like some manner of ghost?”
    He inclined his head, which Elsie took as an affirmative. “I had a twin sister and she died in her sleep. In my bed ,” she said with dramatic emphasis, for she didn’t want his pity. “Ever since then, I simply cannot bear to sleep in a bed. I drive the poor staff here quite crazy, for I seem to fall asleep in the most unlikely places.”
    Alexander listened as the girl talked about her sister, about their adventures, and found himself becoming enchanted by her. She shouldn’t be here, in this room, with him, wearing her very virginal nightclothes. She shouldn’t stand so close to him, close enough that he could smell her sweet scent. She seemed so utterly unaware that she should not be alone with a strange man in the middle of the night. How could a girl be so completely innocent? Or was she one of those women who thought him a boy because he could not speak, someone without a man’s needs or thoughts or lust?
    She certainly wasn’t dressed seductively in that nightgown and robe that covered her from beneath her chin to her toes. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts from moving in a carnal direction. She might be innocent, but there was a woman with a woman’s curves hiding beneath that silly nightdress and he couldn’t stop his mind from imagining what she looked like, what she would feel like.
    It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and she’d been far too tempting, standing next to him, looking up at him in concern as he shed his shameful tears.
    What a fool he was, crying all these years later, crying for the boy he’d been, for the life he’d had. Those two boys were long dead, that life long gone, but it still hurt like hell when he allowed himself to think of it. What had possessed him to paint the figures, he did not know. He only knew he had to. It wasn’t a choice. He had to. Sometimes it happened like that. He’d be drawing or painting and stand back and see something he wasn’t even aware was there. It was magical, when it overcame him, as if someone else were inside him, taking over, creating a beauty he was not even aware he was capable of.
    When he’d seen what he had drawn on that rock, he was as moved as Miss Elsie had been. Moved to humiliating tears, it would seem.
    Monsieur would be furious, but at the moment, Alexander didn’t care. He needed those two boys, their smiling faces, their innocence. He needed to capture that moment, that last bit of happiness. He didn’t know why it was so important, he only knew it was.
    “Alexander?”
    He stiffened, then forced himself to relax, reminding himself that she was one of the few people who didn’t care if he never uttered a word. He turned to face her and caught his breath. She should leave. Now. He wasn’t certain he’d ever seen anyone more lovely than the girl sitting there with her knees drawn up and her toes peeking beneath that lacy hem. He knew it was foolishness, for he’d been seduced by women wearing filmy nightdresses that left nothing to the imagination. He’d been waylaid by women who threw off their robes, revealing gloriously naked bodies. And yet, nothing had ever affected him the way this girl did, sitting on that couch, arms wrapped around her knees, looking at him as if... as if he were normal.
    “Would you care for something to eat? I get famished in the nighttime and cook always leaves something for me in the ice box. Are you hungry?”
    She was not only lovely, she was nice . He