A Dangerous Man by Janmarie Anello Page B

wooing? I'm on tenterhooks to know."
    Richard striding into the room saved Leah from having to
reply. When he glanced at Leah, his eyes appeared startled,
as if he had forgotten he even had a wife, much less expected
to find her at his table. A sudden nervousness brought her
hands to her stomach, a breathless ache to her chest. She
didn't know what to do or say. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes.
    The perfect cut of his riding clothes drew her gaze to his
broad back and tapered waist. Had she truly run her hands
over the chiseled muscles hidden beneath the bottle green
coat and buff pantaloons? Buried her fingers within the silken
strands of his hair? Clung to his powerful hips as he'd entered
her body?
    She laced her fingers together on her lap. Heat spread over
her skin, as if she had developed a sudden fever.
    Rachel laughed. "Richard, your blushing bride looks as if
she might faint dead away at any moment"
    Leah grabbed her fork, attacked her eggs with a vengeance.
    Silently, she cursed her fair skin that reddened when she
felt the least discomfort or embarrassment. She needn't have worried about her clothing or the artful arrangement of her
hair, she realized as he turned to greet her.

    After a politely stated, "madam," he bowed, all stiff formality and polite indifference. Gone was the flesh-and-blood
man who had touched her so tenderly in the night, replaced
by the cold and arrogant Duke of St. Austin, his exquisite civility chipping off pieces of her suddenly aching heart.
    Her thoughts grew foggy, her hands cold.
    For a brief moment, she felt as if she were back in her
father's house, back when she first met this man and his obsidian gaze had raked over her with his unrelenting stare.
    She had not expected him to fawn all over her like some
moon-struck calf, especially in front of Rachel, but she had
expected some warmth, some sign that what had passed between them was as special to him as it was to her.
    Somehow she managed to smile and nod and pretend to
listen as Rachel continued her less-than-subtle probing, all
conducted through a pleasant smile and gleaming eyes.
    "I had asked Leah how the two of you met," Rachel said to
Richard. "Perhaps you would care to tell the tale, St. Austin?
Naturally I'm curious about the child you took to wife."
    She turned innocent blue eyes on Leah. "By the way, dear,
how old are you? Or should I say, how young?"
    The butler walked over to the table and stood beside Leah.
"Pardon me, Your Grace?"
    She pushed her eggs to the side of her plate, mashed her
toast with her fork. The unbearable churning in her belly sent
a wave of nausea up her throat. The dreaded sting of tears
touched her eyes. She did not know why she felt the urge to
cry. It was silly, really. He was all that was polite and civil.
    "Leah," Richard said. His voice was the same deep baritone rumble that had trembled over her skin in the darkness,
only now it was filled with cold indifference.
    She folded her hands on her lap and smiled at her husband
as if she were happy. Then she saw it. The brief flare of sen sual heat in his eyes. The sweep of his gaze moving over her
lips, making her shiver as surely as if he stroked his fingertips over her mouth. Try as he might to maintain his indifference, he was not unaffected. It was a start. "Yes?"

    "I believe Harris is speaking to you"
    "Oh, yes, of course. What is it, Harris?"
    "You have a visitor, Your Grace"
    "Oh, for heaven's sake," Rachel said. "Who is it, Harris,
and what do they want?"
    "A Mr. Alexander Prescott, Your Grace," the butler said to
Leah, his voice slightly hesitant. "Shall I ask him to return
this afternoon?"
    Alexander? Leah pressed her hand to her stomach, a burning flush once again creeping up her neck. He had said such
hateful things to her last night, what more could he possibly
have to say? "No, thank you, Harris. I would like to see him
now."
    "Very well, Your Grace," he bowed and strode away.
    Rachel's