Whispers at Midnight Read Online Free PDF

deceptive fragility of a newborn
fawn. Her green eyes glowed gold in the candlelight and a cascade
of honey-brown hair fell like morning sunshine around her
shoulders. With his blood already hot, Ryne would have liked
nothing better than to pull that offending blanket from her grasp
and to see the treasures hidden underneath.
    Instead he took a slow, deep breath and
noted that the look of panic had not left her face.
    “We didn’t expect you so soon, Amanda,” Ryne
said calmly, bending to the floor to retrieve a shirt of black silk
that lay like a pool of ink at his feet.
    “So it seems.” Amanda watched him pull the
garment over his head and then carelessly tuck it into his
trousers. She had seen men dress before. She had seen many sights a
young lady should never have known about. Her experiences in the
frivolous and fast-paced world of the theater had hardened her to
the wiles of men. Why a flush of heat should rise to her cheeks at
the sight of Ryne posturing about and adjusting his clothes was a
mystery. It occurred to her in turn that he would have been no less
uncomfortable under her gaze had she found him completely
disrobed.
    “You might put the gun away.”
    She frowned. The gun was heavy and her
outstretched arm ached under the weight of it. Gasping, she dropped
the barrel toward the floor and gently lowered the hammer in
place.
    “You had it cocked?” Ryne’s eyes widened in
astonishment. He could imagine her inexperience with a gun. This
little sprite, this little usurper, might have ended his escapades
with a nervous clench of her fingers.
    “I find it fires best that way,” Amanda said
flatly. “I had no idea you used the house as a bordello.”
    Ryne’s brows flickered up a little. “I have
yet to adjust to the fact that Wicklow no longer belongs to my
family.”
    “But it does,” Amanda countered quickly. “At
least Aunt Elise considered me family.”
    Ryne smirked. “Then it’s ‘family’ we are, my
sweet.”
    He shook his head and ran his fingers
through the tousled black hair, fighting the temptation to accept
the gentle innocence in her voice. Amanda Fairfax had inherited not
only her mother’s beauty but her skills as an actress as well. He
shrugged and went on in a lowered voice.
    “I’m at a disadvantage to give you the
greeting you deserve, dear cousin, but I promise to make it up to
you.” A step brought him very near. He took the pistol she held
limply, his fingers rough-edged and warm on hers, his large hand
dwarfing her small, delicate one. “Let’s put this somewhere safe.
We don’t want to add a new ghost to Wicklow.” Ryne laughed softly
as his devilish gaze ran harrowingly over Amanda.
    She swallowed hard and trembled inside the
blanket. So Ryne had grown up to be a rogue—an arrogant, confident
one who resented her having Wicklow. What would his brother Gardner
be like? Still a gentleman, she hoped. Two like Ryne would be hard
to contend with.
    “Hadn’t you better take your friend
somewhere?” Amanda asked, a sly smile breaking out on her face.
“She’ll grow tired of waiting for you.” For all her bravado, Amanda
had taken a cautious step away from Ryne and now stood squarely in
the doorway, one arm tightly holding the blanket together. Ryne,
however, made the step with her as if they were engaged in a kind
of mental dance that coordinated their movements. Too aware of his
closeness, she took another step back, and once again he followed
her lead.
    A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Never let
it be said I kept a woman waiting,” he whispered. He stood so close
she could smell the scent of brandy that clung to his lips. She
could feel the moist warmth of his breath on her face, see the
invitation in his eyes. “You’re blocking the door, m’lady.” A long,
slender finger caught her under the chin and lifted her face to
his. A shiver ran through her flesh as he caught a lock of her hair
in his hand and brushed the fragrant curl against his lips.
    Amanda