Free It Takes a Scandal by Caroline Linden Page B

estate is utterly ruined. People call me a thief. They even say I killed my father. Ask anyone in town, and they’ll warn you to stay far, far away from me. To a beautiful, innocent young woman, I might as well be the devil incarnate.”
    “ Did you kill your father?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Abigail wished them back.
    “What do you think?” he asked in the same soft, dangerous tone.
    She frowned. “I doubt it.”
    “But you don’t know. That should warn you to run away.”
    She stared at him. “You intrigue me.”
    He leaned closer. In confusion she closed her eyes. “And you intrigue me,” he replied, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. “That’s why I avoid you.”
    “Isn’t that all the more reason not to avoid someone?” she asked unsteadily. She could smell his shaving soap and a fresh scent that put her in mind of a sun-drenched field. This was attraction, potent and primitive and reckless.
    He shuddered. “Not in this case.” She forced her eyes open. His face was still taut and tense, but his eyes were dark with longing. Slowly he reached up one hand, as if he would touch her cheek, but at the last moment he let it fall.
    “Why did you come today, if you mean to avoid me?” She had no idea what she was doing, arguing with a man who baldly admitted he wanted to run the other way when he saw her . . . even though she intrigued him.
    He stepped back. “Foolishness.”
    She didn’t move. “Will you show me the grotto, before you begin ignoring me forever?”
    “No.”
    “Then I shall have to find it on my own.” She eased away from the tree. “You did give me permission to walk in the woods. Do you mean to rescind that?”
    He looked like he very much wanted to say yes. “No.”
    “Very well then.” She stepped closer to him, thrilling at the way his eyes darkened even more and his breathing hitched. He did find her intriguing. Abigail had heard enough rumor and innuendo in her life to discount at least half of anything the gossips said. She hadn’t heard enough about Sebastian Vane—yet—to decide what she thought of it in his case, but the edge in his voice when he threw the rumors in her face hinted at a man more wronged than wicked. She’d get to the bottom of that later, but for now . . . “I intend to search every inch of these woods until I find it.”
    “As you wish, Miss Weston.”
    She glanced at him from under her lashes. “If you don’t want to see me again, you had better avoid the woods at all times.”
    “I will bear it in mind.”
    “Then I suppose this is good-bye, Mr. Vane.” She tugged Milo out of the bushes where he’d been happily snuffling, and walked past him, very near. When her shoulder almost would have brushed his, she paused and looked up at him. The grim distance was gone from his face; he watched her with a mixture of wariness and fascination. She chose to focus on the fascination, hoping he was as helpless against it as she was. “But I hope it’s not.”
    She turned and walked away without looking back, her pulse pounding in her ears.
     
     
    Chapter 6
     
    A bigail decided it was time to cast off subtlety. When she got back to the house, she sent Milo away with a footman and went in search of her sister, who turned out to be in the bright conservatory at the southern side of the house. “You should have seen the way Mrs. Huntley reacted when she saw Mr. Vane was here this afternoon.”
    Penelope put down her book without a second glance. Abigail thought she saw the edge of a pamphlet sticking out from between the pages. At least Pen was being more cautious about reading 50 Ways to Sin this time; Mama never went into the conservatory, claiming it made her sneeze. “Why did no one tell me he was here?”
    “He barely was here.” Abigail dropped onto the chair opposite Penelope. “I was astonished to see him at all—”
    “Were you?” murmured her sister with a sly look.
    “He only came to receive Mama’s thanks