In Bed With the Devil by Lorraine Heath

Author:Lorraine Heath
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780061983368
Publisher: HarperCollins

He was smiling when he came to get her. Truly smiling. Not one of his sardonic twists of the mouth. Not one of his mocking smiles. Not a sneer or an insolent pout.

Catherine had not expected this reaction. Hadn’t even thought him capable of it. She’d expected him to be miffed that she’d taken his money, expected to find him in a foul mood. But his eyes were lighter than she’d ever seen them, as though there was suddenly a brightness inside him.

He led her through the now-familiar dark corridor to the back door, where his coach waited on the other side. For the first time since they’d begun their nightly ritual, he kept the coach lantern lit inside. The curtains were in place, preventing anyone from peering in. He settled back in the corner, and while she knew she should be embarrassed by his perusal, she wasn’t. On the contrary, she rather liked it. And she was feeling a trifle smug that she’d duped him.

She was aware of his deep chuckle before his smile grew, and she wondered if he could read her thoughts.

“You don’t care what people think,” he said.

She couldn’t tell from the way he emphasized the words if he was asking a question or making an observation. Still, she felt obliged to answer.

“Of course I care. To a certain extent we all care, but we can’t care to the point that we live in fear of others’ opinions, that we allow them to change who we are. We must be willing to stand up and defend what represents the very core of our being. Otherwise what is the purpose of individuality? We’d be nothing but imitations of each other, and I daresay we’d all be rather boring.”

“I don’t think anyone with any sense could ever accuse you of being boring. As a matter of fact, you are the least boring person I know.”

His admission made her uncomfortable, because it pleased her far too much. Shouldn’t his love be the least boring person he knew?

She looked down at her gloved hands, nestled in her lap. He shifted until he was sitting directly in front of her. He took her hands in his. His were so large. With his thumbs, he began stroking her knuckles.

“Is your wound hurting?” he asked.

She lifted her gaze to his. “No.”

She wanted to lean into him, wanted to press her lips to his. It was wrong of her to want so much from him, when his heart belonged to another.

“I was thinking that it might be a good idea to have Dr. Graves join us for dinner tomorrow night,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“It would make it seem more like a true social dinner, rather than simply you and Frannie dining with me looking on.”

He released his hold on her, leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you fancy him?”

She was taken aback by his tone; it had taken on an unfriendly edge, as though he were—heaven forbid—jealous. “I like him.

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