Free A False Proposal by Pam Mingle Page A

form onto one of the chairs in front of the fire, sipping slowly. He stretched his long legs out in front of him. What had possessed him to kiss her? It wasn’t just the kiss, it was the undeniable fact that his desire to possess her had nearly consumed him. His need had been stirred by something else, though. She’d been so brave, speaking of her fiancé’s death, then insisting she was prepared to become a pariah once again. But her tears revealed her underlying vulnerability, which was the one thing in Cassie he couldn’t bear to see. Since their childhood, Adam had wanted to protect her from harm. The fact that Perceval’s assassination could dredge up the old gossip about Cass infuriated him. Why couldn’t people let it go?
    It pleased him that he’d seen evidence of desire in her expressive eyes and felt it in her body as it hungered against his. Christ, it had been all he could do to stop himself. He hadn’t expected Cass to respond so passionately. The extent of his need had been quite obvious, and she seemed more than willing to match it with her own.
    But a gentleman couldn’t trifle with a lady he did not intend to wed. Especially one who also happened to be the sister of his closest friend. That was the simple truth. There were plenty of other women around for that. Lord, he needed a mistress. He’d never kept one, because he’d either been at war or traveling. This did not seem the most opportune time, however, unless he could find himself a rich widow willing to play political hostess and pour money into his cause. That brought an image of Leonora to his mind and he shuddered with revulsion.
    But Cassie. What was he to do about her? He wanted her, plain and simple. But she was Jack’s sister, and still a virgin, he suspected. Though her enthusiasm was quite surprising and definitely arousing, it was apparent she had much to learn. Ah, but he’d love to teach her.
    Abruptly, he sat up, pulling his feet in and setting them on the floor with a resounding thump. Out of the question. Adam had never seriously considered marriage. Was he not his father’s son? He might end up like the man, a degenerate. So debauched, Deborah had had to leave him, taking her younger son with her. What if he’d somehow inherited a proclivity for the same kind of lewd and depraved behavior? Maybe it revealed itself as one grew older. He’d never subject any woman to what his mother had endured before making the final break with his father, and he probably didn’t know the half of what Deborah had suffered.
    And then there was the war. The horror of it had changed him. War in the abstract was most people’s experience; the real thing was something else again. While it had hardened his body, it had also put lines in his face and a whole litany of surreal memories in his mind, of men moaning in death, crying out for their wives or mothers, and not a damn thing he could do except hold their hands and promise to write to their loved ones. The agonies the men had endured before death claimed them haunted his dreams. He didn’t know if he could share his wartime experience with anyone, even Cass. Ending the war, if he gained a seat in Commons, was his most passionate cause.
    Should he ask Deborah not to invite her to the house party? There was really no good reason for her to be included, other than the fact that she was Jack’s sister. Being thrown together with her for a week would be bad. Very bad. But Jesus, he wanted her there.
    He was definitely going to tell his mother that under no circumstances should she invite Leonora, even if she had already extended a verbal invitation. He would no longer receive that woman into his home. Her cruelty to Cass was unforgivable, and he didn’t give a damn for her good opinion. Or her money.
    Adam drained his glass and poured himself another, a short one this time. He drank and ruminated. What was Cassie thinking? Was she in her bed, dreaming about him? He snorted. For Christ’s