Untouched Read Free

by the power of pleading cobalt eyes. Almost blindly, he made for the door.
    “Wait! Please.” He couldn’t misunderstand her frantic tone. “Don’t leave me here. Untie me at least, I beg of you.”
    He swung his head back toward her. “I believe it to my advantage to have you constrained.”
    To untie her, he must touch her. The memory of her satiny cheek under his hand still burned like acid, fleeting as the
    mocking caress had been.
    “Please. I…I think I’m going to be sick.”
    She dragged in a shuddering breath that made her breasts rise, round and enticing, against the loosened front of her faded
    black dress. He resented the fact that he noticed.
    “Don’t practice your tricks on me,” he snarled.
    “No. I mean it,” she said unsteadily.
    In truth, the wench’s alabaster complexion showed an alarmingly green tinge. She’d closed her eyes and dark marks
    beneath them stood out like bruises.
    He paused. Perhaps this wasn’t a ruse.
    Reluctantly, he strode across to that cursed table where he’d spent so many hideous hours. All the way, he derided himself
    for a soft-headed fool. This slut was his enemy and in league with all his other enemies.
    Even while the litany ran through his mind, he tugged swiftly at the tapes that held her. As soon as she was free, she
    struggled into a sitting position.
    “Sir, I’m afraid I…”
    Yes, the ashen skin definitely held a sickly hue. While she lied about so much else, she was definitely ill. He scanned the
    room and found what he wanted. Fortunately, just an arm’s length away.
    “Here.” He shoved a large blue and white bowl into her shaking hands.
    She mumbled something that might have been thanks then bent to retch miserably into the dish. Her physical discomfort
    awoke grudging sympathy, despite what Matthew knew of her. When finally her stomach settled, he sat with his arm
    around her to keep her from collapsing.
    He tried to ignore the warm, womanly feel of her, but it was impossible. She fit against his side as if created to curve into
    him. His hand automatically conformed to the sinuous shape of her body, so different from the hard masculine angles of
    his. The deep V of her unbuttoned bodice revealed shadowy glimpses of her breasts. A clever touch, he thought bleakly,
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    trying to distance himself from the urge to see more.
    She trembled and laid her head back on his shoulder in a gesture of absolute exhaustion. The braids circling her head
    were untidy and soft tendrils of hair pleasurably tickled his jaw.
    “Rest for a moment,” he murmured into that silky black mass of hair.
    Gently, he reached across to disengage the bowl. He set it beside him on the table. She hadn’t brought up very much. He
    guessed her stomach was empty. Certainly, the body he held so unwillingly was thin to the point of emaciation. She felt
    fragile, as if the slightest pressure might shatter her.
    “It must be the laudanum they gave me last night,” she whispered. “It’s never agreed with me.”
    Laudanum?The word, with its hint of compulsion, hovered as a question on the edge of his mind. Then his concentration
    returned to the woman lying bonelessly in his embrace. He angled himself so he could see the round smoothness of her
    forehead and the straight, oddly aristocratic nose. She was beautiful. He’d recognized that immediately.
    Recognized and railed against it.
    The oval face with its exotically slanted cheekbones reminded him of etchings he’d seen of Italian Madonnas. His uncle
    had been generous in giving him books to make up for the Grand Tour he’d never undertake.
    His gaze fastened on where delicate color returned to her lush mouth. Its fullness belied the impression of purity. That
    mouth made even such a sorry excuse for a man as Matthew dream of sin.
    Oh, she was skilled at this game. In a matter of moments, she had him