The Price of Desire. Jo GoodmanЧитать онлайн книгу.
THE PRICE OF DESIRE
“We are of a kind, you and I,” Griffin said quietly. “I think you know it’s true.”
Then he bent his head and laid his mouth over hers. There was very little pressure in the kiss, just a touch, a tender brush. Sweetness and solace. He offered only as much as he thought she could accept and was uncertain from the beginning if she could accept any of it.
His hands slid from her elbows to the small of her back. He resisted the urge to pull her closer and instead let her find her own way into the shelter of his embrace. She edged closer, her mouth parting. He changed the slant of his mouth, licked her lower lip with the damp edge of his tongue.
He caught the scent of lavender on her skin and the taste of mint on her mouth. The fragrance made him think peculiarly of innocence—the taste of things fresh and unsullied.
Olivia raised her hands, then let them fall back to her side. She hadn’t quite known what she wanted to do with them. Touching him, her fingers on his shoulders, at the back of his neck, drifting into the curling ends of his dark hair, all of it seemed too much, or possibly it was that it wouldn’t have been enough.
His kiss made her remember emptiness and longing. It made her think of what she could have in the moment, but would always be denied in the forever. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, the kiss stirred her….
Books by Jo Goodman
The Captain’s Lady
Crystal Passion
Seaswept Abandon
Velvet Night
Violet Fire
Scarlet Lies
Tempting Torment
Midnight Princess
Passion’s Sweet Revenge
Sweet Fire
Wild Sweet Ecstasy
Rogue’s Mistress
Forever in My Heart
Always in My Dreams
Only in My Arms
My Steadfast Heart
My Reckless Heart
With All My Heart
More Than You Know
More Than You Wished
Let Me Be the One
Everything I Ever Wanted
All I Ever Needed
Beyond a Wicked Kiss
A Season to Be Sinful
One Forbidden Evening
If His Kiss Is Wicked
The Price of Desire
Published by Zebra Books
THE PRICE OF DESIRE
JO GOODMAN
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
For some of the people who’ve dropped seeds in my life.
You may never see this,
never know,
that your seed was nourished and thrived.
Recognition is long overdue.
Mary Alice Dambaugh
Barbara Keller
Dr. Dietrich
Amy Yohn
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Prologue
London
January 1823
“The debt is £1,000.”
Griffin Wright-Jones, Viscount Breckenridge, closed the book of accounts slowly, running his forefinger along the spine before he neatly squared it off so it was parallel to the edge of his desk. He set himself back just a fraction in his chair, inclining his back and resting his elbows on the wide, burnished leather arms. It was only then that he deigned to look up, one dark brow lifted in an expression of such mild curiosity that it could have been mistaken for indifference. He did not expect that the man standing at attention on the other side of the desk would make that error. Alastair Cole had too much at stake—£1,000, to be strictly accurate—to misjudge the situation.
“I admit that at long last you have impressed me,” Breckenridge said.
Alastair Cole said nothing. Did nothing.
“If you schooled your features so well at the table, you would have discharged this debt handily. Mayhap you would not have amassed it.”
“I will honor it, of course.”
“Of course.” Breckenridge paused deliberately, though not overlong. Still, it was enough time to observe Mr. Cole shift his weight ever so slightly from his right foot to his left. This infinitesimal movement was accompanied by a shift in Cole’s gaze. “You are a gentleman, after all,” Breckenridge said. “I would expect nothing less.”
“I am gratified you know it.”
Breckenridge nodded slowly. “Your reputation is important to you, I imagine.” He noticed that Alastair Cole did not flinch, but he did blink. Twice. Breckenridge’s hands closed soundlessly in an attitude of prayer. He pressed the tips of his fingers together, making a steeple of them as he continued to regard Cole, considering. “You will likewise be aware that my reputation is important to me.”
“My lord?”
Breckenridge was now quite certain that Cole’s voice box was as tautly stretched as his nerves. There had been an alarming squeak as the man had uttered these last words. Judging by the scarlet color that rose above the stiff points of Cole’s collar, he had heard it as well.
“I collect what is owed,” Breckenridge said. “That is my reputation. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then you will not take offense when I ask how you plan to cover your losses.” Breckenridge permitted himself a small smile at Cole’s discomfort. Clearly the young man was offended at having the question put to him—a gentleman was taken at his word, after all—but he also seemed to sense that a toplofty tantrum was an indulgence he could ill afford. Breckenridge held up one hand, palm out, forestalling Cole’s answer just as the man’s lips parted around the lie he was about to tell. “And, pray, do not say you mean to ask for an advance on your quarterly allowance. We both know that such a request is unlikely to be granted.”
Alastair