The Temptation of Your Touch Read Free Page A

creature who was said to haunt these parts, loping along beside the carriage, eyes glowing red and teeth bared.
    Letting the curtain fall, he settled back on the plush squabs, feeling an unexpected rush of exhilaration. The rugged terrain and ferocious weather perfectly suited his current temper. If he had sought to banish himself from the comforts and charms of civilization, he had chosen well. The bone-rattling journey from London alone would have been penance enough for a less sinful man.
    There had been a time when his father might have tried to talk him out of leaving London. But when the gossip about Max’s duel had reached the duke’s ears—and the society pages of the more sordid scandal sheets—the duke had been forced to admit it might be in everyone’s best interests if Max took a brief respite from polite company. His father still hadn’t recovered from the blow of Max’s resigning his prestigious position with the East India Company. Even Max’s mother, who had yet to give up on her cherished hope that Max would find a new—and far more suitable—bride, had managed no more than a token protest when informed of his plan to manage the most remote property in the family’s extensive holdings.
    If it had been within his power, Max would gladly have relinquished his title along with his career. Ash had ended up with everything else Max had ever wanted. Why not just hand him the earldom and make him heir to their father’s dukedom as well?
    As his parents had bid him an affectionate farewell in the drawing room of their London mansion, neither of them had been able to meet his eyes, plainly fearing he might recognize the relief within their own. Since his past transgressions had come to light on the day his bride had jilted him, proving he wasn’t the perfect son they had always believed him to be, Max had become a stranger to them both—dangerous and unpredictable.
    Despite his determination to embrace the rigors of his exile, he felt a flare of relief when his carriage traded the rutted road for a cobbled courtyard. He wasn’t immune to the temptation of stretching his long legs after being confined to the cage of the vehicle for hours—and days—on end.
    He was gathering his hat, gloves, and walking stick when the coachman flung open the carriage door. Rain dripped steadily from the drooping brim of the man’s slouch hat.
    “Have we arrived at our destination?” Max was forced to practically shout to be heard over the rhythmic slap of the rain against the cobblestones.
    “I have,” the man said shortly, his long face lookingas if it would shatter completely if it dared to crack in a smile. “ ’Tis as far as I’ll go. You’ll have to hire one o’ the locals to take you the rest o’ the way.”
    “Pardon? I was under the impression you’d been engaged to take me to Cadgwyck Manor.”
    “I was hired to take you to the village of Cadgwyck,” the man insisted.
    Max sighed. His diplomatic skills had once been the stuff of legend, but of late the reserves of his patience had been all but exhausted. “If this is the village, surely the manor can’t be that much farther. Wouldn’t it make more sense to press on than to go to all the trouble of unloading my baggage just so it can be reloaded into another conveyance? Especially in this weather.”
    “ ’Tis as far as I’ll go. I’ll go no farther.”
    Max wasn’t accustomed to having his will defied, but it was rapidly becoming clear the taciturn coachman was not to be swayed, either by logic or threats. Since Max didn’t have a stockade, a firing squad, or even a dueling pistol at his immediate disposal, he found himself with no recourse but to exit the man’s carriage.
    “Very well,” he said stiffly, yanking on his gloves.
    He climbed down from the carriage, tugging the brim of his hat forward to shield his face from the wind-tossed gusts of rain. He straightened to find himself standing in the cobbled courtyard of aramshackle