Read Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever for Free Online

His hand had somehow found her bottom, and was squeezing, pressing her up against him in the most intimate of places. And she didn’t understand how she could want this and not want this, how he could make her tingle and make her scared, how she could love him and hate him at the very same time, in equal measures.
    â€œNo,” she said again, wedging her hands between them, palms against his chest. “No!”
    And then he stepped away, utterly abrupt, without even the slightest hint of a desire to linger.
    â€œMiranda Cheever,” he murmured, except it was really more of a drawl, “who knew?”
    She slapped him.
    His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
    â€œWhy did you do that?” she demanded, her voice steady even as the rest of her shook.
    â€œKiss you?” He shrugged. “Why not?”
    â€œNo,” she shot back, horrified by the note of pain she heard in her voice. She wanted to be furious. She was furious, but she wanted to sound it. She wanted him to know . “You may not take the easy way out. You lost that privilege.”
    He chuckled, damn him, and said, “You’re quite entertaining as a dominatrix.”
    â€œStop it,” she cried. He kept talking about things she did not understand, and she hated him for it. “Why did you kiss me? You don’t love me.”
    Her fingernails bit into her palms. Stupid , stupid girl . Why did she say that?
    But he only smiled. “I forget that you are only nineteen and thus do not realize that love is never a prerequisite for a kiss.”
    â€œI don’t think you even like me.”
    â€œNonsense. Of course I do.” He blinked, as if he were trying to remember how well, exactly, he knew her. “Well, I certainly don’t dislike you.”
    â€œI’m not Leticia,” she whispered.
    In a split second, his hand had wrapped around her upper arm, squeezing nearly to the point of pain. “Don’t you ever mention her name again. Do you hear me?”
    Miranda stared in shock at the raw fury emanating from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “Please let me go.”
    But he didn’t. He loosened his grip, but only slightly, and it was almost as if he were staring through her. At a ghost. At Leticia’s ghost.
    â€œTurner, please,” Miranda whispered. “You’re hurting me.”
    Something cleared in his expression, and he stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he said. He looked to the side—at the window? At the clock? “My apologies,” he said curtly. “For assaulting you. For everything.”
    Miranda swallowed. She should leave. She should slap him again and then leave, but she was a wretch, and she couldn’t help herself when she said, “I’m sorry she made you so unhappy.”
    His eyes flew to hers. “Gossip travels all the way to the schoolroom, does it?”
    â€œNo!” she said quickly. “It’s just that…I could tell.”
    â€œOh?”
    She chewed on her lip, wondering what she should say. There had been gossip in the schoolroom. But more than that, she’d seen it for herself. He’d been so in love at his wedding. His eyes had shone with it, and when he looked at Leticia, Miranda could practically see the world falling away. It was as if they were in their own little world, just the two of them, and she was watching from the outside.
    And the next time she saw him…it had been different.
    â€œMiranda,” he prodded.
    She looked up and gently said, “Anyone who knew youbefore your marriage could tell that you were unhappy.”
    â€œAnd how is that?” He stared down at her, and there was something so urgent in his eyes that Miranda could only tell him the truth.
    â€œYou used to laugh,” she said softly. “You used to laugh, and your eyes twinkled.”
    â€œAnd now?”
    â€œNow you’re just cold and hard.”
    He closed his