Read Night in Eden for Free Online

at his hip had been transformed into a gentleman, dressed to go out for the evening. He wore an elegant, dark coat with a double-breasted front panel that curved toward the back. His waistcoat was of white silk, as were the stockings that showed beneath his formal breeches. He had an evening cape casually flung over one arm. From his hand dangled a chapeau bras and a pair of white gloves.
    But for all his finery, there was still an aura of wildness about him, she noticed—an indefinable air of untamed danger that seemed at odd variance with the clothes he wore.
    Painfully conscious of her naked breast, Bryony eased the sleepy baby off her nipple and pulled together her shift. She wished she'd had the sense to put her dirty old dress back on right after her bath.
    She quickly tied the ribbon at the neck of her shift. When she looked up, she discovered his dark, somewhat disturbing gaze focused on her hair. His flaring brows were drawn harshly together, as if he didn't like what he saw.
    Bryony's hair had been cropped short before she was put on the ship, but in the last six months it had grown to an awkward length. Now that it was clean, it curled wildly about her head in an untidy riot.
    "What have you done to your hair?"
    She blinked at him in surprise. "I—I washed it."
    He walked over to the humidor that stood on a side table and extracted a cigar. Even in evening clothes, he had a lithe, coiled way of moving. "From now on," he said over his shoulder, "keep it pulled back. You look like a whore with it all over your face like that."
    She felt her cheeks grow hot. "I don't have anything to hold it back with. Someone stole my caps on the ship."
    He turned, the cheroot resting against his lower lip. "I was planning to have Gideon take you down into the town tomorrow to pick up some things for Simon. You can get yourself a new dress and cloak while you're there. And some caps."
    "Yes... sir."
    She rose to lay Simon in the cradle that stood near the fireplace, self-consciously aware of his disturbing eyes, watching her.
    "We might not make it into town again for some months," he said, striking his tinderbox. "So be sure to buy whatever Simon is likely to need in the immediate future. I assume you know what will be necessary?"
    She glanced up at him from where she bent over the cradle. He sat with his hip resting against the edge of the oak table near the window, carelessly swinging one silk-clad leg back and forth. His tinderbox flared. The flame cast harsh shadows across the sharp bones of his face. She thought of those wild, desolate hills, rolling endlessly into the distance, and swallowed hard. "Is your property so far?"
    He shrugged and tipped back his dark head to exhale a long stream of blue smoke. "If the roads were decent, it could be done easily in a day. But the roads in New South Wales are never decent."
    He flipped the ash from the tip of his cigar with one movement of his lean hands. He had nice hands, she thought; strong, yet well-formed, and tapered, like an artist's. Or a musician's. She wondered, idly, if he played an instrument.
    He lifted the cigar to his lips again. "I hadn't meant to leave you alone with Simon yet, but I've received an invitation from Government House for tonight that can't be refused." He paused to inhale deeply, his gaze never leaving her. "I've already told you what will happen if I find you have mistreated or neglected my son in any way. Do you need me to repeat it?"
    She stared at his harsh, arrogant face, and unconsciously clutched her shift to her breast as if some flogger were already about to rip it off her. "No... sir," she forced herself to say, thinking that she'd never hated anyone more than she hated this man.
    "There's one other thing I forgot to mention." He stubbed out his cigar with a quick motion. There was an edginess, a restlessness about him tonight that she could sense even if she couldn't quite explain it. He glanced back up at her, and she could feel his gaze on