Free The Emperor's New Clothes by Victoria Alexander

suspected was next on his aunt’s list of what she wanted for his life. It wasn’t enough that he’d spent five long years getting what Lorelie referred to as “polish.” She hadn’t said anything yet, but the speculative look in her eye tonight had told him what new, diabolical plan was simmering in that clever little brain of hers. Lorelie Matthews probably couldn’t find her way home in the dark, but Tye had long ago learned that in many respects, she was not nearly as light-headed as she usually appeared.
    But this time, she’d lose. He didn’t want a wife. Not now. Not ever. But a widow—his grin widened—that was another matter. Widows were women of the world, experienced and relaxed about the intimacies that naturally developed when mutual attraction was as strong as that between him and the countess. And he was confident, simply from the way her body seemed to fit so perfectly with his, that she was as attracted to him as he was to her.
    Funny thing, though. He pulled his brows togetherwith the unsettling thought. The blasted woman had almost seemed to be avoiding him tonight. Maybe she was simply a lot more reserved, possible even shyer, than she looked.
    â€œWhat do you think, Whiskey?”
    The blood bay beneath him nickered her assent. Tye chuckled. He could always trust Whiskey to agree with him. After all, if a man couldn’t depend on his horse, who could he count on?
    Certainly not his closest friend. At least not where women were concerned. He’d seen the way Sedge had pursued the countess when he’d first spotted her. Although, as the evening progressed, the Englishman had seemed to ease up on his attention to her. Strange. It wasn’t Sedge’s usual technique.
    â€œMaybe he’s already given up.” Tye patted Whiskey’s neck absently. “Maybe he’s conceding this one to me.”
    The mare whinnied, and Tye laughed. “You’re right, old girl, Sedge would never admit defeat so easily. Not with a woman like this.”
    No, not with this woman. She was damn near irresistible, with hair a deep, dark red just a shade lighter than his horse, and eyes the intense green of an exotic gem or rich, spring grass. And her voice. Lilting and lush and just a bit husky, with an accent that melted something deep inside him. Hell, when it came to women, he loved a foreign accent. Especially when it fell from lips full and ripe and made to be kissed.
    He noticed, though, her inflection was somewhat different from Sedge’s. Her pronunciation seemed much more precise than his friend’s. In fact, it reminded Tye of the Shakespearean plays he’d enjoyed back East. Oh, well, it didn’t much matter. Sedge and the countess apparently weren’t from the same part of England, and the difference in their accents was no doubt due to that. There were probably regionalspeech differences in their country the same way there were in the United States.
    Not that he really cared one way or another. Why, he didn’t mind if the woman never opened her mouth again. Well, not to talk anyway. As much as he liked her voice, it was neither the only nor the most important thing about her that made his blood race and his temperature rise.
    Even her name was taken straight from the plays of the master. Ophelia. Of all the worthless subjects he was forced to study in college, Shakespeare was damn near the only thing he actually liked. He’d even brought home a collection of the Bard’s works that now sat proudly on a shelf in his parlor. Maybe he’d dust them off when he got home and refresh his memory. Who knows? A few classic phrases just might help in his campaign to win her fancy.
    It had been a long time since a woman triggered this kind of demanding need and unrelenting desire. He shifted uncomfortably on the saddle at the very thought. He wanted this woman and wanted her bad. Maybe it was just that she was the first female