Thunder and Roses Read Free Page B

minutes of suffering would be a small price to pay when set against starving families and the lives that will be lost when the Penreith mine explodes.”        
     
    A flicker of interest showed in his eyes, and for a moment he seemed on the verge of asking her to elaborate. Then his expression blanked again. “Though it’s an interesting offer, bedding a female who would carry on like Joan of Arc going to the stake doesn’t appeal to me.”
     
    She arched her brows. “I thought that rakes enjoyed seducing the innocent.”
     
    “Personally, I’ve always found innocence boring. Give me a woman of experience any time.”
     
    Ignoring his comment, she said thoughtfully, “I can see that a plain woman would not tempt you, but surely beauty would overcome your boredom. There are several very lovely girls in the village. Shall I see if one of them would be willing to sacrifice her virtue in a good cause?”
     
    In one swift movement, he stepped close and caught her face between his hands. There was brandy on his breath and his hands seemed unnaturally warm, almost scalding where they touched. She flinched, then forced herself to stand utterly still as he scrutinized her face with eyes that seemed capable of seeing the dark secrets of her soul. When she was certain that she could bear his perusal no longer, he said slowly, “You are nowhere near as plain as you pretend to be.”
     
    His hands dropped, leaving her shaken.
     
    To her relief, he moved away and retrieved his glass, then poured more brandy. “Miss Morgan, I don’t need money, I can find all of the women I want without your inept help, and I have no desire to destroy my hard-earned reputation by becoming associated with good works. Now will you leave peacefully, or must I use force?”
     
    She was tempted to turn and flee. Instead she said doggedly, “You still haven’t named a price for your aid. There must be something. Tell me, and perhaps I can meet it.”
     
    With a sigh, he dropped onto the sofa and studied her from a safe distance. Clare Morgan was small and rather slight of build, but she forcefully occupied the space where she stood. A formidable young woman. Her abilities had probably been honed while organizing her otherworldly father.
     
    Though no one would call her a beauty, she was not unattractive in spite of her best efforts at severity. Her simple garments emphasized the neatness of her figure, and skinning her dark hair back had the paradoxical effect of making her intensely blue eyes seem enormous. Her fair skin had the alluring smoothness of sun-warmed silk; his fingers still tingled from feeling the pulse of blood in her temples.
     
    No, not a beauty, but memorable, and not only for her stubbornness. Though she was a damned nuisance, he had to admire her courage in coming here. God knew what stories circulated about him in the valley, but the locals probably saw him as a major menace to body and soul. Yet here she was, with her passionate caring and her bold demands. However, her timing was dismal, for she was trying to involve him with a place and people that he had already decided he must forsake.
     
    A pity he hadn’t started on the brandy earlier. If he had, he might have been safely unconscious by the time his unwelcome visitor had arrived. Even if he forcibly ejected her, she would likely continue her campaign to enlist his aid, since she seemed convinced that he was Penreith’s only hope. He began speculating about what she wanted of him, then stopped when he caught himself doing it. The last thing he wanted was involvement. Far better to bend his brandy-hazed brain to the question of how to convince her that her mission was hopeless.
     
    But what the devil could be done with a woman who was willing to endure a fate worse than death in pursuit of her goals? What could he ask that would be so shocking that she would flatly refuse to consider doing it?
     
    The answer came to him with the simplicity of