Free Love's Portrait by Monica Burns Page A

until determination filled his expression.
    One hand pressed against the base of her throat, she inhaled a ragged breath. God help her, she didn’t know how she was going to fulfill her wager without losing a part of herself to him. He studied her for a long moment before he shook his head with a gleam of frustration in his dark blue eyes.
    “Today was a step in the right direction. We’ll see about expanding your horizons tomorrow night at the St. Claire Fete.”
    His soft voice sent trepidation sliding down her back. No. She needed to throw herself on his mercy and have done with it. If he continued this seduction, she would be lost. Not looking at him, she laced her fingers together, trying not to tremble.
    “Wouldn’t tonight be a better opportunity?” The sooner this was done, the sooner she could regain her sanity.
    “No, I have an appointment this evening.”
    For a fleeting instant, she found herself wondering what woman would be in his bed tonight. It wouldn’t be her, and the knowledge nipped at her like an angry puppy. She turned away from him to watch the traffic in the street below. A strong arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her back into his chest. His mouth nibbled at her ear.
    “And no, my sweet, it’s not another woman.”
    Appalled that he’d been able to read her thoughts, she jerked away from him and put several feet between them. “I care little as to whom you entertain, St. Claire.”
    “So you say—but your face is quite expressive, Julia. Even more so when you climax beneath my touch.”
    With a wicked grin on his lips, he strode from the salon, leaving her to sputter with indignation as the door closed behind him. The man was insufferable and far too arrogant. Climax indeed. The thought made her cheeks burn with mortification. When a woman had sexual relations with her husband or lover, it was suppose to be about the man’s pleasure. Oscar had made that very clear.
    The memory chilled her. Pleasure had been the farthest thing from her husband’s mind when he’d come to her bed. He’d been a rutting boar, spilling his seed in her without one thought of her comfort or pleasure.
    Her husband had disgusted her. She’d been grateful when after nearly two years of marriage he’d stopped coming to her bed. Her inability to have a child had earned her nothing but his contempt, but she had gladly accepted it in place of his sexual attentions.
    A tremor wracked her body as she remembered how differently Morgan made her feel. She had experienced no disgust at his touch. In truth, it had been exciting. Exhilarating even. The thought made her heart skip. She did not want to let the man excite or exhilarate her. She simply wanted to fulfill her debt and be done with him.
    Of course, what she wanted and what Morgan St. Claire wanted were two different things. The man wouldn’t disappear from her life until it suited him. And that was what worried her.

Chapter 5
     
    Standing in the loft overlooking the warehouse floor, Morgan watched the spirited party below. The building had been emptied for the annual St. Claire Fete, and at one end of the large storage facility, the band he’d hired was playing an Irish jig. On the makeshift dance floor, his employees and their guests danced with an exuberance that pleased him. There was an unrestrained freedom in the boisterous antics of the dancers as they cavorted to the music.
    Like the partygoers, he wore no jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his elbows. He wanted his employees to feel comfortable. Dressing in the same manner they did removed the barrier of wealth that usually existed between them. His father was no doubt rolling in his grave. The man had always worked his employees hard, never realizing that people tended to work harder when they were treated well.
    When his father had died, Morgan had made changes almost overnight. His actions had propelled St. Claire Shipping forward until it was even more successful now