Free Their Wicked Ways by Julia Keaton Page A

who comes in and sees
us.”
     
    Bronte collapsed weakly in
the chair he’d just vacated as he strode from the room like a man with the
hounds of hell behind him.
     
    Darcy stood in the street
outside for ten minutes before he remembered he’d decided to walk to Bronte’s
house.  “God!” he growled abruptly, grimacing.  “I said fuck.”  He rubbed a shaking
hand over his face, trying to decide whether he’d seen shock or anger on her
face, but he couldn’t seem to remember anything except that she’d looked
thoroughly kissed, her eyes still slumberous with desire.
     
    He could smell her perfume
all over his skin.  Just smelling her made his blood boil all over again.  He
adjusted his decreasing erection, hoping it wasn’t too noticeable to anyone he
passed by on the street.
     
    Satisfied that he didn’t look
like some rampaging rapist, he ran a hand over his hair and realized it was in
disorder and knew he must look like a wild man.  Smoothing it the best he
could, he set off down the street at a good clip.  He was halfway up the stairs
to Nick’s townhouse when it suddenly occurred to him that Nick was the last
person he wanted to run into at the moment.  Turning abruptly, he headed down
the stairs once more, gazed absently up and down the street and finally headed
back to his apartment.
     
    He’d never had any encounter
affect him in this manner.  Maybe he was growing too old for dalliances, if
kissing Bronte could do this to him.  Disturbing, to say the least, and he
wondered the wisdom of pursuing the course if he couldn’t get a handle on his
lustful emotions.
     
    His carriage was in front of
his apartment when he arrived.  Glaring at it for several moments, he stalked
into the house in search of his manservant.
     
    “Where the hell have you
been?” he demanded.
     
    Kingsley paled. “You told me
to pack your things and follow you down to the country estate.”
     
    The explanation took the wind
out of Darcy’s sails for about two seconds.  “That was more than a week ago,
and, I might add, I sure as hell didn’t tell you to pack all of my
belongings!  I’ve been wearing the same three outfits for more than a week and
people are starting to talk!  What’s more, I can’t fathom why it would take you
more than a damned week to go there and back when I made it in a day!”
     
    Kingsley flushed.  “The
carriage broke down twice.  When I arrived at the country estate no one had
seen you and it was thought that you might have been waylaid along the route by
thugs.  By the time we sent out inquiries, you’d already left the inn and
returned to town, sir.  Once I knew you’d returned to town, I loaded everything
up and came back.  We only broke down once on the return trip.”
     
    Darcy stared at him in
horrified fascination for several moments.  “You mean to tell me you had people
searching for me all over the countryside?”
     
    “Your mother,” Kingsley
supplied.
     
    Darcy rolled his eyes. 
“Well, of all the cock brained things to do!  You know how she is!  Where are
my clothes anyway?”
     
    “I’ve unpacked them, sir. 
The … uh … others were in the laundry.”
     
    “As if I’d think to look for
them there!” Darcy said accusingly, stalking past his manservant and up the
stairs to his room.

 
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    Bronte wasn’t certain how
long she sat in the salon after Darcy had left, her emotions so tumultuous she
merely stared blindly at her hands in her lap, listening to her pounding heart
slow until it had resumed its natural rhythm.  When her body had ceased to
clamor for the release it had been denied, however, her mind began to kick into
gear once more.
     
    Darcy wasn’t the only one
who’d completely forgotten himself.
     
    They were fortunate her
mother was confined to her bed and none of the servants had happened by.
     
    She was more fortunate that
Darcy had retained enough common sense not to yield to her