The Wild One

The Wild One by Danelle Harmon

Book: The Wild One by Danelle Harmon Read Free Book Online
Authors: Danelle Harmon
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moved
forward to gently pull the sheet up over his chest. He looked up at
her through his lashes and gave her a slow, sleepy smile, content
to let her fuss over him, grateful for the attention, a man
completely at ease in the company of a woman.
    "Thank you," he murmured, smiling as he let
his eyes drift shut. "I think I shall enjoy ... my dreams."
    She blushed wildly at the unspoken
implication of what they might contain; then she touched his arm
and crept silently away.
    "One last thing, Miss Paige."
    She turned and gazed fondly at him, at his
eyes, drooping now, that he was trying so hard to keep open.
"Yes?"
    "This is a ... rather oppressive house. I
know better than anyone what Lucien is like, and I know how
homesick you must be, far away from everyone and everything you
know and love. But you just remember this.... Any time you start
feeling out of place here or unwanted or just need to get away from
it all, you know where to find me."
    His words hit something deep inside of her,
making her realize she'd found her first real friend in this
strange and lonely place. A little lump rose in her throat. "Thank
you, Lord Gareth."
    "Mmm ... the pleasure is mine, madam."
    ~~~~
    Gareth slept well past supper, not only
because his body needed the healing rest, but because large
quantities of Irish whiskey were enough to lay even the most
debauched of English gentlemen low.
    When he opened his eyes late that evening,
the shadows were gathering, the room was still, and a figure sat in
silhouette by the dying light of the far window.
    "Ah. So the gallant hero awakes."
    Gareth swore and rubbed his eyes.
"Lucien."
    "Feeling better, I hope?"
    "I feel fine." He yawned, stretched with
lazy, all-the-time-in-the world abandon, and suddenly snapped to
attention as he remembered. "Where is she?"
    Lucien swept his arm to indicate the many
bouquets that seemed to grow from every flat surface in the room.
"Where is whom?"
    "Don't play games with me, you know damned
well whom I'm talking about."
    "Ah, you must mean Miss Paige. Why, she's
downstairs in the Gold Parlour with Nerissa and Andrew, playing
with Charlotte. Tsk, tsk, Gareth. Did you think I had sent her
away?"
    "And why wouldn't I think it? You will."
    A smooth, benign grin. "Perhaps."
    "Oh, and what is your twisted, self-serving
game this time, eh?" Gareth muttered, sitting up and pressing the
heel of his hand to his pounding head. "To see how quickly you can
intimidate her into leaving? Frighten her into turning tail and
fleeing back to Boston? Or perhaps it's something worse."
    The duke raised his brows, all feigned
innocence and surprise. "Why, Gareth. You wound me with your
distrust and lack of faith in me. I am not such a monster as all
that. In fact, I even brought you tea."
    "You play with people's minds, Lucien. I'll
not have you doing so with hers."
    "My dear boy, I plan nothing of the sort."
He flicked a bit of dust off his sleeve of black velvet. "Besides,
the girl is not so easily frightened. You know that yourself."
    "You can't send her away."
    "I will if I have to."
    "I won't allow it."
    "You'll have no choice. I am not blind,
Gareth. I see how quickly you defend her, and I suspect you
half-fancy her already — as you do anything with two legs and a
skirt. Now, don't get me wrong. I quite like the chit. Miss Paige
is a fine woman, blessed with both beauty and courage, but she is a
base-born rustic, and you are the heir-presumptive to a dukedom —
much as I rue that unhappy fact every day of my waking life." He
gave a dramatic, exaggerated sigh. "Oh, how I wish Andrew was in
line to inherit, instead of you...."
    "Don't lecture me, Lucien. I'm not in the
mood to hear it."
    "Of course you're not. You never are, are
you? But here's something for you to think about whilst you're
lying in bed, playing up your little scratch and enjoying the
undeserved fruits of hero worship." He ignored Gareth's curses.
"Whether or not I send Miss Paige away, my dear boy, depends

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