Games of Pleasure Read Free Page B

particularly good care of the gelding.”
    The groom tugged at his forelock. “My lord!”
    Ryderbourne spun a coin into the man’s open palm, then turned to hold up both arms. Since there was no other immediate choice, Miracle slipped into them, put her arms about his neck, and laid her head on his shoulder. Rain poured in a stream from the brim of his hat, but he turned so that his body sheltered her from the worst of the weather.
    The groom took the horse’s reins.
    â€œA bran mash,” the duke’s son said. “An especially thorough rubdown.”
    â€œVery good, my lord!”
    Miracle stared at the gelding as the man led it away. The magnificently muscled rump. The coat groomed to a coal-jet shine, in spite of its recent bath in saltwater. An animal obviously worth a fortune.
    â€œYou would trust that minikin with your horse?” she asked.
    â€œAbsolutely,” Lord Ryderbourne replied. “Until the landslide swept away the road, this place handled all the coach traffic passing along the coast. Though it’s cut off to through traffic now, Jenkins still knows how to take care of a horse.”
    â€œSo no one comes here now but locals?”
    She knew at once that her voice had betrayed her. He glanced down at her and smiled. A lovely, almost amused smile that said he was infinitely capable of laughter, infinitely quick-witted—not cold, not arrogant, at all.
    â€œYou wish for quiet, Miss Sanders?” he asked. “You want privacy? You need a place where no one will discover you? You’ll find them all here.”
    â€œAnd you can guarantee all of that,” she said, “because you are Lord Ryderbourne, heir to the glorious St. Georges. They say you might slay dragons with one raised eyebrow—”
    â€œDo they?”
    She tilted her head against his shoulder and stared up at the sodden sky as he carried her toward the inn doorway.
    â€œThey also say that you’ve been known to send ladies into either decline or climax—depending on the lady—with one haughty glance.”
    The good humor fled his face. “So which kind of lady are you?”
    Miracle wrapped her arms more tightly about his neck. “Which kind of lady would you like me to be?”

CHAPTER TWO

    RYDER KICKED OPEN THE DOOR TO A BEDROOM AND CARRIED his captive inside, two maids scurrying at their heels. The room felt chill, unused.
    â€œSee to the fire, Mary,” he said to one of the maids. “Alice, bring hot soup, or tea, or mulled wine: anything hot that you have in the kitchen.”
    â€œYes, my lord.” Alice hurried away.
    While Mary busied herself at the grate, Ryder set his burden down on the rug, then strode to the bed to fling back the covers. The sheets felt damp.
    â€œAs soon as you’ve finished with the fire, fetch clean, dry sheets,” he said to the maid. “And bring up a warming pan.”
    Mary curtsied and scurried from the room. Flames leaped up the chimney. Warmth began to permeate the cold spaces.
    Ryder felt supernaturally alive. His mystery stood like a sapling. Long wet hair snaked down over the sodden cloak. She met his gaze without blinking, a small, defiant quirk at one corner of her mouth.
    Beneath the ugly bruises, beauty streamed from her dark brow to the proud column of her throat. Allure gamboled in the sweep of black lashes and kissed at sensuous red lips. A perfection of creation that struck him to the heart, like a jewel suddenly discovered among seaweed. He had rescued a woman who was more than beautiful. Her very bones were as dazzling as a diamond. No man would ever see her without wanting her.
    The air almost sizzled as their eyes met. Yet it was not only her loveliness that made the blood run hot in his veins like spring sap; it was the splendid accident of having rescued her.
    Had a similar heady recognition of random fate driven his brother Jack to travel to the ends of the earth?
    His pulse