Wicked Promise Read Online Free PDF

with his guests."
    "We aren't going to mingle. We are simply going to watch." And what a sight it would be! The earl and the newly arrived Viscount Harding were staging a carriage race. Mercy Brown had told her about it—all of the servants would be watching—and Elizabeth determined so would she.
    With that goal in mind, she made her way to the south wall of the barn and pressed herself against it. The stones felt cold and rough behind her back, and the earth smelled damp and musty at her feet. Peering around the corner, she checked to be certain no one was near and was relieved to see the space was empty.
    A number of servants stood across from the starting line, where two smart black phaetons, one a sporty, high-perch model drawn by a pair of matched blacks, the other a lighter, drop-front phaeton pulled by a pair of glossy bays, were lined up side by side on a makeshift tract. The guests formed a cluster around them, all of them, she noticed—even the women—well into their cups. Ravenworth was nowhere to be seen, off somewhere apparently making ready.
    She motioned around the corner for Aunt Sophie to join her, but the old woman didn't appear. Backtracking to the side of the barn, Elizabeth found her aunt bent over, plucking bits of shiny red glass up off the ground.
     "Isn't it pretty?" Aunt Sophie held a pudgy hand up to the light so the broken glass sparkled in the sun.
    Elizabeth sighed. "Very pretty, Aunt Sophie, but we're going to miss the race if you don't hurry up."
    "I know, I know." But she carefully filled the pocket of her cloak with the broken bits of glass before she lumbered forward. Elizabeth gripped her hand and tugged her along in her wake, rounding the corner full tilt and slamming headlong into the tall man walking the opposite way.
    He caught her easily, steadying her against him to keep her from falling. "Well—look who we have here. Miss Woolcot. Why am I not surprised?" The Earl of Ravenworth stared down at her from his considerable height. Elizabeth's palms still rested on his chest while his long dark fingers encircled her waist. They felt warm and strong and for a moment she found it hard to breathe.
    "I—I... we heard about the race. We wanted to watch." She lifted her chin. "Surely there is nothing wrong with that."
    He let go of her and she took a step back, trying not to think how solid his chest had felt, how the muscles had flexed when he moved. Her glance strayed down from his full- sleeved white lawn shirt to the tight buckskin riding breeches that molded the lines of his body. She noticed the way they gloved the heavy bulge of his sex, and heat raced up her neck and into her cheeks.
    Something glinted in his eyes, as if he knew where she had been looking, then it was gone. "You may watch—as long as you content yourselves with staying over here out of the way." She could smell a hint of the gin he had been drinking and beneath his dark skin his cheeks looked a little bit flushed. She didn't know if it was excitement or the spirituous liquor he had consumed.
    She turned toward a small wooden shed near the racecourse. "If it's all right with you, we will watch from just over there." She pointed toward the shed, and Ravenworth nodded.
    He turned his formidable gaze on her aunt. "I leave it to you, Mrs. Crabbe, to see your niece stays out of harm's way."
    "Of course,, my lord. You know you can always count on me."
    Ravenworth's mouth curved faintly. He made a curt bow of his head, flashed a last warning glance at Elizabeth, and turned to leave. She watched him walk away, his long strides eating up the distance toward where the carriages sat, and her mouth opened up of its own accord.
    "Good luck, my lord!'' she called after him.
    The earl stopped and turned, smiled that devastating smile she had rarely seen. "Thank you, Miss Woolcot. Since you are watching, I shall make it a point to win."
    She returned the smile in spite of herself. In spite of the fact she didn't approve of