Read Susan Carroll for Free Online Page A

she
said,
    For the first time that evening, Armande
smiled, a smile nowise reflected in the dangerous depths of his
eyes.
    "How amusing," he drawled, in a voice silken
with menace. "I was thinking exactly the same thing about you."

Chapter Three
     
    Phaedra stared at the playing cards in her
hand. Her eyes, bleary from lack of sleep, refused to focus, and
the morning breeze drifting through the open window did nothing to
clear her groggy senses. The library at Blackheath Hall, her
grandfather's house, was a small, narrow room set at the back of
the second floor. Sawyer Weylin could not see wasting any of his
grander apartments upon a set of rubbishy books. The closely packed
volumes that lined every available inch of wall space exuded a
strong odor of leather and dust. Even though it was but the first
of June and the hour not advanced past ten, the air was humid and
stuffy. The summer promised to be a hellish one.
    Aye, it would be hellish indeed if she
continued to be afflicted with such dreams as had tormented her
last night. Every time she had closed her eyes, Phaedra had found
herself back in Lady Porterfield's ballroom, circling through the
steps of the dance with a silver-masked stranger. Sometimes she
would wrench away the mask to see a grinning death's head. But
other visions were worse. She would see Armande de LeCroix, his
blue eyes glinting with the intensity of a candle flame, his
seductive whisper ensnaring her in a silken web. His mouth had
sought hers, hot and moist.
    It was fortunate, Phaedra thought, that she
had been able to force herself awake. No lady would have such
wicked dreams- which were all the more disconcerting because the
man was her avowed enemy, Varnais. Ewan had always told her that
she was possessed of a harlot's nature.
    "Are you going to play that jack, my girl?" A
good-humored male voice with an Irish lilt broke into her
reflections. "You might be better advised to lay down your
queen."
    With a start, Phaedra realized she was
holding her hand too low.
    Leaning across the mahogany card table, her
cousin Gilly unabashedly perused her cards. She raised them and
directed a half-embarrassed glance at the young man sprawling in
the slender-legged Chippendale chair, which looked too fragile to
bear the weight of his lanky frame. How much of her shameful
thoughts had her cousin read upon her face?
    Patrick Gilhooley Fitzhurst grinned at her,
flicking aside one of the strands of hair that drooped in front of
his twinkling green eyes. His riotous mass of brown curls defied
confinement in the queue he had attempted to form at the nape of
his neck.
    "'Tis a fine hand you have there, I'm
thinking," he said. "Would to God it pleased you to play some of
it."
    "I intend to, Gilly, if you would cease
interrupting me."
    Re-sorting her hand, she tried to concentrate
on her game. But the vision of steely-blue eyes kept rising between
her and the cards. She kept remembering the marquis's final words
of warning: he would find a way to be rid of her if she pried into
his affairs. Of course, she had made the first threat, but she had
been angry and blustering. He had meant it. What sort of deadly
game must the man be playing, if the mere hint of a few questions
provoked such a response? Phaedra had a feeling that she would
never know a peaceful night's sleep again if she did not discover
the truth about de LeCroix.
    "Phaedra!"
    She started, almost dropping her cards. "Oh,
very well, Gilly."
    She flung down a jack, little thinking what
she did. With a snort of disgust, Gilly trumped her, taking the
trick.
    Phaedra strewed the rest of her cards across
the table. "You've won."
    "Won, is it?" Gilly wrinkled his snub nose.
"For all the challenge you offer, I might as well have been playing
with my old grandmother, and herself half blind. Here, look at
this."
    Phaedra watched as Gilly tugged one
threadbare cuff of his rateen frock coat, shaking it until several
aces dislodged from his sleeve, fluttering onto the table.