Read Love's Portrait for Free Online Page B

this to you before the meeting started, Mrs. Westgard. I do apologize, my dear.”
    The woman turned toward Julia, whose face resembled a statue. Despite her lack of emotion, the anger in her tight smile was more than evident. He could almost see her brain working on a way to escape the trap into which she’d stumbled.
    “Well then, Lady Eldred, Mrs. Westgard, since I’d like to bid on this item, I repeat my bid of two hundred pounds.”
    “But you—” She glared at him as he smiled. Sweet Jesus, she was captivating when she was angry. And she wasn’t just angry, she was furious. His smile broadened.
    “Two hundred pounds, Mrs. Westgard. Do I hear any other bids?” He glanced around the room, enjoying the looks of shock and curiosity on the faces of the women surrounding him.
    “I bid three hundred pounds.” Confidence glowed from Julia’s features again as she tilted her head at a stubborn angle. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth and forced a polite smile to his lips.
    “Four hundred.”
    “Five.”
    “One thousand.” Damn the minx. He’d extract a suitable punishment the moment he had her alone.
    “Two thousand.”
    A stand off. She was hell bent on saving herself from the wager she’d made. No doubt, she’d continue to outbid him until she was penniless. Her anger was almost tangible as he narrowed his eyes to study her. But he had no intention of letting her win. In fact, he intended to teach her a harsh lesson. No one— no one ever stole or cheated Morgan St. Claire.
    “Before I make another bid, Mrs. Westgard, I’d like to view the merchandise.”
    Without waiting for her agreement, he skirted the chairs in front of him, moving along the side of the room until he reach the front row where Julia was standing. As he drew near, her body was no longer supple and relaxed. Her stance was as rigid as a brick wall. He extended his hand and waited for her to drop the silk square into his palm. Although her face was serene, he saw her fingers tremble as she gave him the auction item. Bending his head, he pretended to study the handkerchief.
    “You seem determine to win our wager, Julia, but I have no intention of losing.” He lifted his head to stare into her strained expression as she took in his quietly murmured words. “Shall I continue bidding or do I explain how you really came by this handkerchief.”
    The sharp inhale of her breath indicated his words had struck home. He turned toward the waiting members of the Society.
    “Ladies, I’m thoroughly convinced this is indeed my handkerchief, and I offer up a bid of five thousand pounds.”
    He turned his head to look at Julia. The defeat was evident in her eyes. But it was the look of vulnerability in her hazel gaze that tugged at him. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but it was most certainly a disturbing one. She drew in a deep breath before forcing a smile to her mouth.
    “Sold to Mr. St. Claire for five thousand pounds.”
    The moment her words faded in the air, the room filled with the loud buzz of conversation. Watching Julia, he frowned. He should be feeling elated right now. He’d won. She would be in his bed soon. A sharp pang of regret rocked him as he drew in a quick breath at the realization that he wanted Julia to come to him willingly, not bought and paid for like a whore.
    “Bloody hell,” he muttered.
    Her eyes and face empty of emotion, she nodded her head at him. “You’ve won our wager, Mr. St. Claire. What time am I to present myself for your disposal?”
    The cool mask of detachment angered him even more. The problem was—he wasn’t angry with her. He was furious with himself. When in the hell had he suddenly taken to bedding women who didn’t want anything to do with him? And there was no doubt she didn’t want anything to do with him.
    Teeth clenched in frustration, he studied her in silence for a long moment. Beneath his gaze he saw the veneer of her cool composure crack slightly. No, he