Too Wicked To Wed by Cheryl Holt

Author:Cheryl Holt
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Published: 2006-06-20T21:00:00+00:00

2

Mr. Smith?”

“Yes?”

Helen flashed her sweetest smile. “Would you usher the guests out of here? Mr.—that is, Captain—Westmoreland seems to be laboring under the oddest impression. We must talk privately.”

“I’m not mistaken,” Westmoreland interjected.

“He’s not,” Mr. Smith added, looking terribly sorry. “I have their agreement . . . if you’d like to read the terms?”

“No, I don’t need to see it.”

She was amazed at her composure. A thousand thoughts were careening through her head, most including maiming and murder, although under the circumstances, she’d be hard-pressed to decide with which man to begin.

“If you’d ask everyone to go?”

“Certainly,” he offered, though he didn’t move, and she realized that he was waiting for Westmoreland’s permission.

With Smith being very young, and Westmoreland purportedly his owner, she could imagine how tricky it would be for him to assert himself. Helen, however, was a free person and not afraid of Westmoreland in the least.

“Ladies . . . ladies . . .” Helen clapped her hands, rousing them as she would a group of schoolgirls. “The party’s concluded.”

No one stirred, so she grew more aggressive. As if she were the hostess, she started snatching up wineglasses and blowing out candles. “Thank you for coming,” she said over and over. “Please stop by again. The Captain will be delighted to entertain you later.”

She grabbed the drapes and yanked them open, causing shrieks of dismay as sunshine flooded the room.

“Honestly, Westmoreland,” a harlot complained, “aren’t you going to do something?”

Westmoreland gave a subtle signal to Mr. Smith and the guard. Within seconds, the library was emptied, and Helen was intrigued by how swiftly Westmoreland’s minions hurried to obey.

How did he instill such loyalty and devotion? Through kindness? Through brute force? What type of man was he deep down? If she hoped to reason with him, she had to find out.

He stood silently, observing events as if they had no connection to him, as if he didn’t care what any of the people present elected to do. As the last curvaceous bottom slithered out, the guard and Smith following, the door was closed, and Westmoreland spun toward her. An irresistible smile dimpled his cheeks.

“What a tigress you can be,” he said.

“I’ve flayed men with my claws.”

“I’ll bet you have.”

“You’d best be cautious around me,” she warned.

“I will.”

“I always get what I want.”

“I can see that, and you’ve spoiled my fun in the process.”

“You’re like a sheik with his concubines.”

“Yes, I am. Aren’t I lucky?” He was completely unrepentant.

“I’m sure your harem will return shortly.”

“I’m sure they will,” he cockily concurred. “How could they bear to stay away?”

He sauntered over to a mahogany desk that had been shoved into the corner, and he perched on the edge. Arms folded over his massive chest, his strong muscles rippling, he scrutinized her, his blue, blue eyes probing for signs of weakness or apprehension.

She kept her expression blank, recognizing that if he glimpsed any vulnerability, he’d pounce like a hawk on a rabbit, but it was difficult to pretend nonchalance. Other than her

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