Free Desire Wears Diamonds by Renee Bernard Page A

being able to stand on his own
two feet. “I should go. I’ve disrupted the day enough.”
    “Not at all,” Sterling said. “Even if I’m
not clear on the course of events, I’m grateful for your actions.
Mr. Rutherford, you must allow me to repay you for your
bravery.”
    Michael was grateful for the shield of the
carriage door to hide the involuntary fisting of his hands in
frustration. “No payment is necessary.”
    Sterling went on. “A humble show of thanks.
Come to dinner Sunday next. We can reminisce about our adventures
in India and truly reacquaint ourselves.”
    Grace’s head popped up, surprise framing her
expression. “D-dinner?”
    “What say you?”
    Hell, no! I say I’d rather eat dinner with a
viper!
    Caught. He was caught. Whatever vague plan
he’d been working on had evaporated the instant he’d fallen under
that blasted carriage wheel. He was caught in his lie to Grace.
Logic and the rules of polite society dictated that he should
happily accept an invitation to “reacquaint” himself with Mr.
Sterling Porter. One look at Miss Grace Porter and it was a jumbled
mess in his mind, her strange guilt at being on Oxford Street and
the lies and secrets she was enlisting him to keep—whatever they
might be.
    He cleared his throat. “I would hate to
impose—“
    “No imposition!” Sterling smiled again and
Michael felt a bubble of bile rising in is throat. “I insist. Grace
would be in attendance and I’m sure, she would be hurt if you
refused.”
    Trapped like a fly in amber. Damn it!
    “How can I refuse?” Michael said then looked
to Grace. “Dinner. Sunday next.”
    “Let’s say eight o’clock?” Sterling
added.
    If she’d protested, Michael would have had
his excuse to withdraw from the invitation, but Grace looked up
into his eyes, a strange flash of anxiety in their blue depths,
adding to the puzzle.
    “Yes.” Michael said, a man in a trance.
    “Sunday next, Mr. Rutherford.” Sterling
clapped his hands and broke the connection between the pair.
    Michael touched his forehead out of habit,
reaching for the brim of a hat that wasn’t there, and was rewarded
with a shard of hot glass stabbing into his side. But the pain was
nothing. He’d have endured anything and kept the smile on his face
rather than reveal weakness to his archenemy. He knocked on the
carriage ceiling to signal the driver and the horses pulled away
into the lane and spared him the sight of a Sterling Porter’s
crocodile smiles.
    Game is bloody on now.
    Surprise.

CHAPTER SIX
     
    “You’ve broken at least two ribs,
Rutherford.” Rowan announced as he felt as gingerly as he could
along Michael’s side to explore the damage done. “Are you spitting
up any blood? Does it particularly hurt anywhere else?”
    Michael bit his lip to keep from saying
anything too sarcastic. “I’ve not punctured anything if that’s what
you’re asking and it hurts like the devil when I breathe. Please
just wrap it as tightly as you can and let’s call it good.”
    Rowan smiled but pulled out the bandages he
would need along with a pair of good scissors to cut the cloth.
“Why are all my friends such terrible patients?”
    Michael ignored him.
    Rowan slowly lifted Michael’s arm to hold it
away from his body while he started the wrap. “It’s badly bruised.
You’ll have a blueberry pie under your armpit before morning. The
cut on your head is incidental and I don’t see the need for any
stitches but you may have another scar to add to your lovely
countenance.”
    “I don’t care.” Michael reached up to touch
his head and regretted it as the pain from his ribs sliced up his
spine. “Damn! Well, at least my balls have stopped throbbing.”
    “I’m not going to ask. But I’ll leave you
something for the pain.” Rowan eyed his bag. “I brought a new
mixture that is said not to be addictive if—”
    “No. There’s no need. Now is not the time to
be groggy or slow-witted.”
    “Is this part of your plan? Did