Yankee Earl Read Online Free PDF Page A

Her wide-set hazel-green eyes shot sparks at him. He was not surprised, considering the way he had treated her when first they met. Grinning in spite of himself, he thought, Let the ton speculate . No one but he and his “countess” knew the cause of her animosity. As soon as she reached him, he swept her into the waltz before she could say a word. Every eye in the room was on them as they whirled around the floor.
           Rachel fought the urge to stamp on his feet. Would this crude colonial always keep her off balance? She had wanted to shock him, see him flummoxed and gaping just as she had been on their first encounter, not smirking as if he were— was a bloody earl!
           I will not lose my temper .
           She detested the advantage his height gave him. Her high-heeled dancing slippers normally allowed her that advantage. Forcing herself to look up into his laughing blue eyes, she said smoothly, “I will give you high marks for consistency, sirrah. You are unchangingly rude.”
           “You, on the other hand, are most agreeably changeable—at least in regard to costumes, Countess. I'll not speak of manners.”
           “How gallant you are now that you know I am no rustic wench ,” she replied scathingly.
           “Ah, I am still not entirely certain of that, but perhaps we could begin again,” he said, tilting his head closer to hers as his arm tightened about her incredibly slender waist. She stiffened and tried to pull away. A faint flush was visible on her sun-kissed face. He smiled to himself with satisfaction. “It would seem I have the same effect on you as you do on me,” he whispered conspiratorially in her ear, inhaling the heady fragrance of honeysuckle.
           Her thoughts scattered in panic. If only her step did not fit so well to his. Their bodies moved in time to the lilting music as if they had been made to dance together, an exercise she normally detested since she towered over most of her partners. Physically, he was her perfect match. Rachel tamped down that exceedingly disquieting thought, the very last she wished to consider now or ever. With a scathing smile, she said, “If by the same effect you mean immoderate loathing, then I imagine 'tis true.”
           He threw back his head and laughed, once again pulling her closer. “What m'lady says and what m'lady feels are not at all the same. Let us not argue, but begin as if we had just met for the first time. I am Jason Beaumont, Earl of Falconridge, at your service.”
           When he smiled at her, she felt her head spin. Attributing her reaction to the way they were whirling about the floor, she calmly replied, “Ah, yes, the scandal sheets are filled with your exploits, m'lord Yankee earl!”
           “You are determined to be a disagreeable baggage. But since you are the one who sought me out, the very least you can do is to give me your name.”
           “I shall be delighted. I am Rachel Fairchild of Har-leigh Hall.” She waited a beat to see if her name registered in his mind. When it did not, she added with a falsely sweet smile, “And your future wife.”

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
           Jason stopped dead in the center of the dance floor, releasing her as if she had suddenly burst into flames. “Pardon?” His mind went blank. He could think of nothing better to say as she began to grin like a prison guard on the hulks where he and his crew had been held captive.
           “Are you deaf as well as boorish?” she asked rhetorically, warming to her explanation. He truly did not know anything of what had been arranged for them—and the announcement was to be made tonight! “I am the eldest daughter of Hugh Fairchild, Viscount Harleigh, whose estates adjoin those of Falconridge. My father and your grandfather have decided that we are a proper match. So much so that the highlight of this ball—indeed, the sole reason for holding