Free Outrageously Yours by Allison Chase Page A

conviction that balled his hands into fists.
    Could it be? Pushing away from the window, he hurried over to a cabinet and found the spyglass he kept there. He returned with it to his vantage point and brought Mr. Edwin Ivers into focus.
    Mr. Ivers, indeed. Galileo’s teeth!

Chapter 5
    “Y our young rapscallion from the university has arrived, my lord.”
    “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Walsh. I know.” Simon threaded his way past busy servants, returning their morning greetings with curt nods and attempting to keep his temper in check until he stepped outside the terrace doors. He barely resisted slamming them shut behind him, but what good would come of shattering his own property when what he wished to snap was a certain young man’s slender neck?
    Except that the young man didn’t exist.
    Damn. Simon didn’t enjoy being made a fool of, not in his own home, and most especially not within the context of his own challenge, designed to discover a brilliant young scientist, not a clever little charlatan. Down the terrace steps he stomped, hoping Mr. Ivers hadn’t yet gone to the trouble of unpacking his bags.
    His quarry’s burgundy frock coat stood out against the foliage near the bronze sundial, and Simon hurried through the Grecian colonnade in fast pursuit. Ned Ivers had seen his last of Harrowood’s gardens, and any other part of Harrowood for that matter. Ah, Simon was going to enjoy this, was going to relish every moment of tossing his soon-to-be former assistant out on that shapely arse of his .
    “Mr. Ivers,” he shouted. The figure clothed in that artfully tailored frock coat jolted to a startled halt.
    Quite against his intentions, Simon halted, too, arrested by the sight of her soft mouth and cream-fresh skin and most of all her eyes, velvety soft yet filled with a boundless spirit that captivated him.
    Ah, this explained so much. No wonder Simon had felt so discomfited yesterday, so oddly enthralled by the boy .
    How could he have missed the glaring truth? Yes, the clothes had been subtly altered to hide her womanly curves. Her hair had been cropped short and she had used something to shadow her chin and upper lip. He supposed that at the university people, himself included, had seen what they had expected to see.
    But here in the vibrant garden her femininity sang out, a full chorus of ripe womanhood and tempting sensuality. And something else . . . something that made his righteous anger falter . . . and then slip away entirely.
    With a frown of uncertainty she started toward him. “Lord Harrow, good morning. I hope I am not breaking any rules by being out here. Mrs. Walsh was explicit about my staying away from the laboratory without your permission, but she mentioned nothing about the gardens.”
    She came toward him, and through her open coat he again observed the graceful swing of her hips. She wore thigh-hugging breeches tucked into those same black and tan half Wellingtons that had proved so burdensome yesterday. Funny, but they didn’t seem to hinder her stride at all now, and for the first time in his life Simon found himself savoring the tantalizing play of muscle and flesh on a woman’s thighs beneath formfitting fabric.
    “Sir? Are there other rules I must know about?”
    Simon blinked and gave his head a shake. His pulse raced; his breathing became labored. He grasped his hands behind his back and came to a sudden decision that shocked him. “There are plenty of rules you must learn, Ned, but all of them pertain to the laboratory. As for the rest of the property, when you are on your own time, you may come and go as you please.”
    Her almond eyes narrowed. “But I may not leave.”
    Her simple statement held a world of dangerous, sobering implications, ones Simon took into account before he replied. Knowingly taking a young woman into his house posed serious hazards for both of them. He had encountered enough loose women in his lifetime to know of a certainty that this woman, with her