Read A Perfect Hero for Free Online Page A

smirk? Still wearing that infuriating whatever-it-was expression, he leaned close. “You may as well know right now, we are in the middle of the forest, far from the nearest village. And no, I have no intention of telling you precisely where we are. So you can scream all you want, though it won’t do any good. There’s no one to hear, you see.” He ran a finger down her nose. “And now, adieu , my little kitten.”
    She slapped his hand away. “Stop calling me that!”
    With a swagger he started toward the door. Ah, but somehow she’d known he would swag ger, the arrogant oaf! Julianna was not yet fin ished. “Don’t be surprised if I’m not here when you return!” she spouted.
    That stopped him dead in his tracks. Slowly he turned, arching a brow in almost lazy amuse ment. “Perhaps the blow to your head has af fected your hearing. So I will say again, there’s no way you can escape. And I would hate to have to bind your hands and feet, though I will if that’s what it takes to convince you. I fear it would be most unpleasant, however.”
    “You wouldn’t dare,” Julianna said with all the haughtiness she could muster.
    His smile vanished, as quickly as if it had never been. “Wouldn’t I? You won’t be leaving here, kitten, and I will take whatever means I must to assure that you don’t. The sooner you resign yourself to that fact, the better off you’ll be. For you see, there is a limit to a man’s patience—to my patience—so if you are wise, you will not tempt me. You will not test me, for you may well regret it.”
    His speech was delivered with matter-of-fact ease, yet his countenance was no less than forbid ding, the bite in his tone unmistakable. Turning his back on her, he opened the door and disappeared outside, yanking the door tightly behind him. The next thing she heard was a key scraping in the lock.
    Julianna gaped, sinking back against the wall, her spine like mush. Had she been standing, she would have surely collapsed, for her knees were still shaking! Unfamiliar though it was, she tasted fear in her mouth, and acrid and bitter it was!
    Did he intend some darker purpose? Rape? Murder? Merciful Lord, had he just threatened her life?
    Oh, if she only knew! For all her defiance—for all his lighthearted mockery—he frightened her.
    For he had made his point well...and well indeed.
    She could not forget. She was at the mercy of a treacherous brigand. A highwayman. The Mag pie. For all she knew . . .
    A most lethal killer.

Three
    ane had not lied. Miss Julianna Clare had been unconscious for so long he’d feared she might never awake. He was heartily glad her in jury wasn’t serious. For all the fragility of her ap pearance, it appeared she was a lively one—to say nothing of the fact that she was passing fair.
    Gingerly, he fingered his eye. The skin beneath was puffy and broken. By God, the wench had drawn blood! He was amazed, outraged—and admiring, all at once.
    Yet his mouth turned down as he whistled for Percival. Whom did he fool? No one but himself, it seemed. The chit was more than passing fair, far more.
    She was a beauty, the likes of which stirred his blood in a way that hadn’t happened in a long while. He’d watched her as she slept, the light from the morning sun spilling in through the window and lighting the hair that spilled on his pillow with sun-burnished gold. It had taken all his will to crawl from the bed this morning.
    Saddling Percival, he pondered further. The lovely Julianna was clearly well-mannered, well born, well fed, and well educated. Her clothing came from the very best shops on Bond Street, unless he was very much mistaken, and Dane was quite sure he wasn’t. No twittering young debu tante was the lady. Ah, yes, she was already past the first blush of youth. If he had to guess, he would put her age at somewhere just beyond her midtwenties.
    But she was untried. Untouched, when it came to the ways of men. Dane would stake his life on that.
    And