Read Beyond Seduction for Free Online Page B

afraid he got away," the man said. Gingerly, he touched his bloodied forehead. "Stunned me a bit. Guess his head was harder than mine."
     
    His grin was wide and slightly wry. Merry's lips twitched, but couldn't quite form a smile. Her rescuer seemed to understand. "There," he said comfortingly, crouching down beside her. "Had a scare, didn't you?"
     
    "Y-yes," she said, the answer shaken by the chattering of her teeth.
     
    "Only natural. You sit a minute and catch your breath. Then I'll see you safely to where you're going."
     
    He smelled different from the other, clean and soapy and faintly of—she wrinkled her nose—yes, he smelled faintly of linseed oil.
     
    Just as she realized who he must be, he offered an ungloved hand. She laid hers in its palm, where he covered it very gently. His hands weren't the largest she'd ever seen but they were graceful and they felt strong. The strangest sensation rippled through her, perhaps the strangest of the night, as if her whole being wanted to yield itself to his care. Nothing could have been further from her nature, and yet she could not deny the intensity of the response.
     
    This, she thought, is how other women feel about their men.
     
    "I'm Nicolas Craven," he said, calling her back from her distraction, "at your very humble service."
     
    "Merry," she replied dazedly, then shook herself. "Mary, er, Colfax."
     
    "Well, Mary Colfax, do you think your legs are steady enough for me to escort you home?"
     
    She nodded, but they weren't because when he helped her up, she almost fell back down. She would have, in fact, if he hadn't caught her against his chest.
     
    "Hm," he said with a gravelly chuckle, "perhaps we were a bit too optimistic."
     
    His hold wasn't what she expected from a supposedly notorious rake. Under the circumstances, it was
    as polite as it could be. As soon as she found her footing, his hands moved from her back to her elbows. They stood in the outermost arc of the lamplight, his gaze quiet and considering on her face.
     
    "Was it someone you knew?" he asked softly.
     
    Her eyes widened. "No," she said, shocked by the suggestion that she'd know someone who would hurt her. "No, I've never seen that man in my life. He just grabbed me and—" She shuddered. "I don't think he knew who I was, either. I was simply there at the wrong time."
     
    The painter's lips formed a thin, harsh line. "That makes me sorrier then."
     
    "Sorrier?"
     
    "That I let him get away."
     
    "Oh," she said, her shudder returning.
     
    Seeing it, he chafed her shoulders through her coat. His eyes twinkled reassuringly. "There. I've gone
    and spooked you, which I never meant to do to such a pretty spark of gold."
     
    Merry's hand flew to her disordered hair. Gold it might be, but hardly pretty. In spite of herself, she had to squelch a tiny flare of female pride. Surely he was only being kind.
     
    But he wasn't. The tip of his index finger drew a line across her brow and down her cheek, the touch a shimmer along her nerves. Without warning, her face prickled with sensitivity: her lips, the tip of her
    nose, the delicate skin around her eyes. She tried to recall if she'd ever felt the like, then stopped when she realized her mouth was hanging open.
     
    Amazingly, her rescuer seemed lost in admiration.
     
    "Look at these bones," he murmured, his gaze following the path of his featherlight caress. "Look at this gorgeous skin. I'd pay a guinea a day to paint you, love, and consider the coin well spent."
     
    "Paint me!" She almost choked on the words. "You want to paint me?"
     
    He tugged a curl from beneath her scarf, testing it between his thumb and finger. His mouth curved in
    a smile. "Yes," he said. "Do you think your employers would give you time away?"
     
    But look at me, she wanted to say. I'm plain as a pikestaff. What idiot would want to paint me? The obvious hope in his eyes was all that kept the words inside.
     
    Well, that and her ludicrous longing to believe