Free The Marquess by Patricia Rice Page B

would only shriek in horror if exposed to his
disfigurement. It had happened once too many times in the past to doubt her
reaction. Beautiful women in particular reacted unreasonably, and the woman in
the study was a picture of loveliness.
    She was also a clever, willful, deceitful little saucebox.
Gavin couldn’t imagine what she was about hiding in his walls and driving
him to madness. But he pretty well figured it had something to do with the Lady
Blanche.
    He could hear the chair in the other room topple with a
thud. She must have woken while he lingered here. She would hurt herself if she
kept it up. He had to go in there, confront her with her perfidies, and drag
the truth out somehow. But going in there meant showing himself to her. Only
half-blind Matilda faced him willingly. And his cousins, but they were another
lot of willful baggages. He couldn’t expect the same from a stranger.
    He could wear the cloak and hood, he supposed, but damn it,
this was his house. He didn’t feel inclined to go about in costume in his
own home. He used the cloak for warmth rather than wear out his good coat, but
the days grew increasingly warm. Meeting her in the garb of hooded beast
didn’t appeal. Gavin supposed listening to her shrieks of horror when she
saw his uncovered visage would give him some perverse pleasure after she had
spent so many nights frightening his servants.
    With that malicious thought in mind, Gavin unlocked the
study door and strode in.
    She had both arms free and struggled with the ties at her
ankle as she lay sprawled on the floor where the overturned chair had left her.
The fall should have bruised her from head to toe and left her screaming bloody
murder. Instead, she looked up as far as she could—about the height of
his kneecap Gavin calculated—and began a stream of imaginative invectives
that encapsulated his ancestors as a combination of vile insects and field
rodents. He’d never heard anyone swear so inventively without using a
single curse word.
    He waited patiently until she ran out of adjectives, then
grabbing the back of the chair, he said, “Hang on, I’m pulling it
upright.”
    This time, she cursed bluntly, but she grabbed the chair
arms as he tilted the chair. Gavin considered remaining behind her, where she
couldn’t see him. With all the heavy draperies drawn throughout the
house, light seldom made much progress through these chambers. She could just
avoid looking at him as the servants did. But his own perverseness made him
cross the room and open the curtains even as she bent to untie her ankles.
    “If you try running away, I’ll catch you,”
he informed her as the sunrise penetrated the room, sending its warmth over his
face.
    “I’m not running away. My feet are asleep. Have
you gone up to see Blanche yet? She’ll worry when I don’t check on
her.”
    Gavin turned with surprise at the tone of concern in her
voice. He expected to find her still bent over her task, but she had turned her
head to watch him with curiosity. He should have known. He winced inwardly,
waiting for the automatic scream as full sight of him registered. Instead, his
beautiful prisoner’s eyes widened, and she tilted her head, avoiding the
shaft of sunlight hitting her full in the face so she could see him better.
    “I had wondered, my lord. The way you skulk around,
I’d expected a deformed beast. I’m disappointed. It’s just
rapier scars. Is there some significance to the design?”
    The rotted drapery he clenched in his fist ripped from its
moorings. Gavin swung around and viciously jerked it from the rod, flooding the
room with morning light.
    Behind him, the mischievous female taunted, “Very
good, my lord. Will you swing from the chandeliers next? Or have you sold them
all?”
    Gavin wanted to growl and jerk another drapery down. He
considered flinging whatever came to hand to reduce her into quivering terror.
He was perfectly capable of terrorizing her. He’d done it before. Even
the