Free How to Wed a Baron by Kasey Michaels

to accompany me. She may even now be rubbing her hands together in glee, believing some great bear has already eaten me, or something.”
    â€œThere are no bears in England, Alina. At least not of the four-legged variety. I was told your mother was English, but I hadn’t given that fact very much thought. What’s your family name?”
    â€œYou’ll allow me to go see them?”
    Justin shrugged. “I see no reason not to, do you?”
    â€œNo, I don’t. But Luka told me that English husbands are very strict, and that I will not be allowed to walk out alone, most especially in London, and that, as a wife, I will no longer have a mind of my own, but only my husband’s will and permission.”
    He sat down on the edge of the bed, which for some unknown reason suddenly seemed quite a natural thing for him to do. “God’s teeth! No wonder you don’t like me. He told you all of that? Did he tell you that we lock wives in the cellars if they dare todisobey, and keep them there on a diet of stale bread and ditch water for a month?”
    Alina’s eyes widened at this, but then she noticed the tiniest bit of crinkling around the outside of Justin’s eyes. “You said that you and he had a long talk this evening. Did he tell you that I’m a very good shot and that I have a very bad temper?”
    â€œHe said you are prone to do whatever people tell you not to do. He didn’t mention any proficiency with firearms.”
    â€œOh. Then perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it, either. And not just with firearms. I am also extremely proficient at archery, and I know how to throw a knife so that it actually sticks in whatever it hits. That isn’t easy, you know, getting the handle not to hit first.”
    â€œNow I’m intrigued,” Justin said, and she believed him, because he was looking at her with some interest. “Many Englishwomen are proficient at archery. Some enjoy shooting, although not many. But I don’t believe I’ve ever met a female who knows how to throw a knife without the handle hitting the target first. Why would you want to learn such a thing?”
    Alina lowered her eyes for a moment, and then looked at him again. “Your English ladies were safe here, on your island, while Bonaparte seemed to go where he willed all across Europe. My father said that when the fox threatens the chicken house, even the hens must know how to defend themselves.”
    â€œLuka told me your father died at Waterloo. I’m sorry.”
    â€œSo am I,” Alina said, sighing. “But he didn’t mean to die. If he did, he wouldn’t have left me with Aunt Mimi. He would have been certain to leave instructions that I be sent to England, I’m sure of it. But Luka isn’t so sure, as Papa never said anything to him.”
    â€œAh, yes, your mother’s family.”
    â€œMy family,” she clarified. She hadn’t really thought seriously about her mother’s family, not until her father was gone, but she’d daydreamed about how they would be. How they’d love her. “They live in Kent. I looked at a map, and it isn’t all that far away from London. It’s all down here the way Portsmouth is, at the fat end of the island, and not up near Scotland.”
    â€œYes, I am familiar with Kent. My own estate is located in Hampshire, also in the…fat part of the island. What’s your mother’s family name?”
    â€œFarber,” Alina told him proudly. “My mother was Lady Anne Louise Farber, daughter of the Earl of—”
    â€œBirling. Yes, I know the family title.”
    She watched as Justin stood once more, his handsome features suddenly cold, hard. She sat up straighter, sensing that the ease they’d seemed to have found with each other these past minutes was just that, a thing of the past. “What’s wrong?”
    His expression softened, but only with some