Free Irresistible by Karen Robards Page B

she wielded them frantically.
    "Indeed, truly there has been a mistake. I know nothing of any letters, and as for Lord Archer— I believe he may be a friend of my aunt's. I have never met him."
    For a moment he stared down at her, his eyes narrowing. He was so close that she could see the tiny lines radiating from the corners of his eyes; so close that she could almost count each whisker that made up the shadow darkening his lean cheeks; so close that she could smell on him the faint salty aroma of the sea.
    For an instant, she thought with budding hope, he almost seemed to be considering her words. Then his mouth twisted sardonically.
    "I'm too old a hand to be taken in by a glib tongue and a pair of big eyes, and so I warn you. Come, we'll deal better if you'll leave off the pretense. I'll give you one chance to hand over the letters voluntarily, and one chance only. Well?"
    "I don't have any letters," Claire insisted.
    His lips thinned. "Not the answer I want. Try again."
    Claire hesitated, nonplussed. How to convince him? Lips compressing, she searched his face. The look in his eyes was one she had never before encountered in any man: It was guarded, but beneath the wariness there was a lurking— was it disdain? She knew her own beauty, knew its power. She'd been dealing with it, for good and ill (and it had largely been ill), since she was in leading strings. To a man, every male she had ever met had regarded her with admiration. No man had ever looked at her as this one was looking at her now: as if she were the object of his— contempt.
    Trying to fathom the why of it made her head swim— or maybe it was her physical state that was to blame for the increasing light-headedness she felt. She was so cold she had passed beyond shivering, so wet there wasn't so much as an inch of dry skin remaining on her body, and so exhausted her legs felt as rubbery as green twigs. It required a real effort of will to stay alert, but she knew her survival might depend on her ability to respond to the opportunity of an instant. Puzzling this nightmare through, however, was beyond her.
    "I don't have any letters! I don't! I swear to you I don't!" Claire felt hysteria start to bubble up inside her. "If I had them I would give them to you, believe me. Can't you see you've made a mistake?"
    "Poppycock." His face was implacable. His fingers gripping her arm hurt. When she made an involuntary movement to free herself, they tightened still more.
    "You're hurting me."
    Her protest was instinctive. If she'd thought about it, she wouldn't have bothered making it. She would have assumed he wouldn't care.
    His lips thinned. Then, to her surprise, his grip loosened just enough that it was no longer bruising her arm, although he still did not release her.
    That one small act of consideration could not be said to hold very much significance. Still, it was a hopeful sign in a bleak situation. She had been beguiling men, purposefully and otherwise, from her cradle. It was, her sisters said, a gift that came naturally to her. Already it had occurred to her that she might use her gift to save her life. Unlike her previous captors, this Hugh seemed almost the gentleman in some ways. She would try to touch any deep-buried chivalry he might possess.
    "The letters, Miss Towbridge."
    Just as Claire opened her mouth to assure him once again that she didn't have his letters, did not, in fact, have the least notion as to what he was talking about, the name he had called her registered. Her eyes widened as she looked at him. There, she'd known it was a mistake! The whole terrifying ordeal was the result of a gigantic error.
    She felt almost giddy with relief.
    "There, you see. You have it wrong. Of course I have not got your letters. I am not Miss Towbridge. I am Lady Claire Lynes."
    His eyes flickered. For a moment he seemed taken aback, and his gaze moved swiftly over her face. Then his jaw hardened.
    "All right, you've run your length. I've no more patience