Seduced At Sunset Read Free Page B

reticule.
    “What are you doing?” she cried as she gripped the purse
tighter, refusing to let go.
    The thief tugged harder and nearly swung her around. “Let
go of it!” he shouted.
    “I will not!” she replied as she leaned back to pull with
all her might.
    Charlotte had been raised with four brothers who were not
above playing rough with her when they were children, and for that reason she
was made of stern stuff. Nevertheless, she was completely astonished when the
man shoved her back into the wrought iron fence in front of the closest
townhouse. Her head snapped back and a sharp pain resonated in her skull. She
was barely aware of her knees buckling as the world spun circles in front of
her eyes, and she crumpled to the ground in a haze of white.

 

     
    Chapter Three

     
    Drake Torrington was just exiting his townhouse when the
sound of a lady’s voice from across the street drew his attention.
    “I will not!” she screamed.
    He spotted her as she was knocked into the fence by a
scoundrel who made off with her purse.
    Drake leaped down the steps, darted across the street, and
reached the woman in a matter of seconds. “Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling
down to lay a hand on her shoulder, for she had collapsed.
    She seemed dazed by the strike to the head, but then she
frowned up at him with a pair of gleaming blue eyes that upset his balance, for
he hadn’t seen a woman so beautiful in years—perhaps ever.
    “I am fine, thank you, sir,” she said as she struggled to
rise, “but that man has stolen my reticule. I want it back.”
    He helped her to her feet. “You’re certain you are all
right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Wait here, then.” He took off after the thief who had
paused foolishly at the corner to rummage through the contents of the purse.
    Drake sprinted toward him. The man looked up in surprise,
then turned to make a run for it.
    Reaching into his pocket, Drake grabbed his watch—a
conveniently heavy piece of gold weaponry—and pitched it at the back of
the man’s head.
    The strike was spot on. The bandit tripped and tumbled
forward to the ground. Disoriented, he rose up on his hands and knees and shook
his head like a wet dog just as Drake came upon him, grabbed him by the lapels,
and pulled him to his feet.
    Drake shook him. “Hand it over, scoundrel, or I’ll knock
your brains out.”
    The thief refused to part with it. He threw a flimsy
punch, which by some dumb stroke of luck connected with Drake’s jaw. The pain
reverberated through his skull and sparked his blood into red-hot flames of
savage aggression.
    It had been years since Drake had enjoyed a good fight,
and he wondered what happened to his old instincts, for there was once a time
he would have anticipated and easily skirted such a watered-down blow. His
pride bucked violently in response, and a heartbeat or two later, the thief was
sprawled out, unconscious, on the pavement while Drake stood over him, feet
braced apart, flexing his bloodied fist.
    The noises of the street had somehow faded away. All he
could hear was the heavy beating of his own heart, like a continuous rumble of
thunder in his ears.
    As his body rhythms returned to a more natural pace,
reality came crashing back. He dropped to his knees to check the man’s pulse at
his neck. He was still alive, thank God. Drake removed the reticule from the
man’s possession, rose to his feet, and turned around to discover the lady with
the disarming blue eyes stood only a few feet away, staring at him in shock.

     

     
    Charlotte felt slightly dizzy and considerably alarmed as
she locked gazes with the man who had retrieved her reticule. Naturally, she
was grateful that he had come to her rescue, but after witnessing such a
shocking display of violence, she felt no safer now than she had when the thief
came upon her.
    She had watched every heated second of the altercation,
and had recognized the force behind the gentleman’s blow. Her breath had
hitched in her throat