Free Seductive Wager by Leigh Greenwood Page A

confused by the altered tone of his voice and the gentleness of his touch. Maybe he didn’t dislike her so much after all.
    She realized in amazement that she had responded to his kindness and had actually wanted him to touch her. It made her feel less alone in the world. He had a masterful way about him that gave her confidence he would take care of her. It wouldn’t be difficult to learn to depend on a man like that. It might even be pleasant.
    At the same time, an inner voice warned to her to proceed with caution. She knew very little about men, it forewarned, and nothing about such men as Brett Westbrook. It would be all too easy to read too much into his practiced chivalry, all too likely she would find herself developing a regard for someone who saw her as nothing more than a temporary responsibility. It would be much wiser to plan for a future that didn’t include his broad shoulders and penetrating eyes. After all, she didn’t really expect to see him again after they reached London.
    On the other side of the door, Brett was breathing hard. This was going to be more difficult than he had thought. Didn’t she know how desirable she was? You would think she had never met a flesh-and-blood man. If she didn’t stop looking so deliciously fragile and helpless, she would soon discover how dangerous heated flesh could be. He would enjoy helping her discover the joys of lovemaking and generating in her a sensual excitement capable of matching his own.
    You’ve got to stop this, he muttered savagely under his breath. She’s a lady, a delicately bred girl, definitely not the kind of female you think about that way unless you’re also thinking of marriage. Touch her, and there’s not a door in England that wont be slammed in your face. Abandon her to her fate, and the result will be nearly the same. The only way to avoid the inevitable consequences was to have never removed her from Ryehill in the first place, but it’s too late to think of that now.
    He strode into the courtyard with a smothered oath. He needed some time to settle his emotions and let his blood cool before he could face the noisy camaraderie of the coffee room. He groaned as he thought of the evening ahead of him. He hoped Kate enjoyed hers more.
    Brett stared impatiently into his brandy. The evening had been a complete bore and his patience was worn thin. After suffering through an amateurish fight, he had been forced to endure three interminable hours while his friends drowned their disappointment. Now, at last, the inn was quiet; he stood up, stretched his stiff limbs, and began to climb the stairs, leaving his brandy glass half full. He’d had more than enough brandy in the last two days.
    Brett listened outside the door to Kate’s room. There was no sound, so he eased the key into the lock and turned it carefully. The door swung open on soundless hinges, and he silently blessed Mathilda’s careful housekeeping; Kate did not wake and he tiptoed in, breathing a sigh of relief as he locked the door behind him.
    The small room was situated in the corner of the inn. Windows dominated two walls with several large pieces of furniture elbowing each other over the remaining space. The curtains were open and moonlight bathed the room in its pale glow, enabling Brett to see his own luggage where it rested on the floor next to a large chair. This, he thought gloomily, will be my bed for the night; it promised to be even more uncomfortable than the coach.
    In the center of the room, and dominating the whole space, was a huge, uncurtained bed piled high with mattresses. In the middle, nearly lost among the pillows, Kate was fast asleep. The shock of coming upon her, vulnerable and at his mercy, caused Brett’s body to tense with heat and hunger.
    Her head rested on one hand, her golden hair spread over the pillow behind her like billowing clouds of spun gold; unusually dark lashes stood out against skin turned to alabaster by the moonlight’s cool glow.