Read Just One Touch for Free Online Page B

magistrate, Your Grace?”
    “Wouldn’t do a demmed bit of good,” Belvingham snorted. “Althorpe’s a clever bastard. I haven’t yet figured out how he’s doing it.”
    Rogan paused with his drink at his lips, wondering suddenly if whatever ailment the duke hadcontracted had also weakened his grasp of reality. “Are you certain it’s Althorpe?”
    The duke cast him a look of irritation as Rogan sat down again. “I’m not a madman, Hunt. I know how preposterous it sounds. I would never have suspected the boy myself except that I found out he’s responsible for the death of my son.”
    Rogan put down his drink with a clink. “He killed your son?”
    “So I was told by an associate of his. It was a deathbed confession, so he had no cause to lie. Quite the opposite, actually. And when I confronted Randall, he…” His voice trailed off as his gaze settled on a portrait of his son that hung on the far wall.
    “Your Grace?”
    “He laughed,” the duke continued. “Never denied it, just laughed. And not long after, I began to sicken.”
    The utter certainty in the duke’s voice shook Rogan. True or not, Belvingham clearly believed the tale. “And I take it there is no evidence linking Althorpe to your son’s death?”
    The duke gave a bitter smile. “Nothing. He killed my son, and he is killing me. The title will pass to him unless we discover an antidote. The best physicians in London haven’t been able to help. And that’s why I summoned you, Hunt.” He gestured with a hand that trembled. “You were my daughter’s hero last night, and I have need of a hero now.”
    “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am at a loss.”
    “I am dying, Hunt, and the jackal who’s killing me will inherit my lands and title. And my daughter will be at his mercy. I want you to protect her.”
    Surprised, Rogan reached for his whiskey. “What would you have me do?”
    “I will give you the mare, Destiny,” the duke said, watching him with canny dark eyes. “And I will include twenty-five thousand pounds…if you marry Caroline.”
    Rogan choked on his swallow of whiskey. “You want me to wed your daughter?”
    “How else can you protect her but as her husband?” Pain threaded the duke’s voice. “If I die—and it looks more than likely that I will indeed pass from this world if Randall has his way—then I need to know Caroline is safe. I will award you the twenty-five thousand pounds the day you marry her, as well as ownership of Destiny. Think of it, Hunt! Your problems will be solved. Not only will you be able to recreate your family’s superior breed of horses, but by marrying the daughter of a duke you will also gain an entrée into society.”
    Impossible. Rogan finished his whiskey in one swallow. He wanted the money. He needed Destiny. But he had sworn never to marry, never to subject an innocent girl to the beast that was Rogan Hunt.
    Especially not Caroline.
    Her face rose up in his mind, fragile and beautiful, her dark eyes shadowed. Her touch last night had unraveled him, had filled him with longingfor something he could never have. And yet the duke offered her. Through a quirk of circumstance, he could have Caroline. As his wife. In his bed.
    For an instant he could imagine it. Passion. Trust. Knowing there was someone to take care of. Someone who would take care of him in turn. Caroline’s small hands on his flesh as he taught her the ways of men and women, her cries of pleasure as he introduced her to the secrets of the bedchamber.
    The beast inside him stirred. Stretched.
    Ruthlessly, he shut the door on his impossible fantasies. It could never be. Caroline deserved more than a killer as a husband.
    The duke’s eyes glittered with hope. “Well? Answer me, boy!”
    Rogan took a calming breath. “Your Grace, I am overwhelmed.”
    “And I haven’t finished.” Belvingham gave a hoarse chuckle. “When I die, my fortune—all of it—will go to Caroline. To her husband.”
    Staggered, Rogan managed,