Read Sweet Surrender for Free Online Page A

had been standing in front of him, he’d have wrapped his fingers around her slender throat and throttled her for causing so much trouble.
    He stood and approached Duncan again.  They were the same height, but Jackson was more brawny, tougher, stronger.
    "I’m going to find your Miss Bennett," he said.
    "She’s not my Miss Bennett."
    "You lucky dog; you get to claim her."
    "I don’t want anything to do with this—or with her."
    "Too late.  You’re at the center of the entire debacle."
    "I kept Edward’s secret.  Don’t I get credit for being a loyal friend?"
    "No."  Jackson snorted with disgust.  "I have to stop Miss Bennett before she reaches the village.  I’ll bring her to the Abbey so she can’t spread any of her malicious mischief."
    "It won’t help.  People will take one look at that boy and will instantly—"
    "Shut up, Duncan!"
    "Yes, I suppose I should."
    "Since Edward is no longer with us, I hold you fully responsible."
    "Me!  How is this my fault?"
    "You told me your version of events."
    "It’s the truth!"
    "Exactly, and I’m thinking of killing the messenger."
    He whipped away and stormed to the door, bellowing for a servant and waiting an eternity for one to appear. 
    He gave hasty instructions to have a horse saddled, to have a carriage prepared, then he went to his dressing room to tug on a shirt and boots.
    Within minutes, he was stomping down the stairs, Miss Bennett directly in his sights and on a collision course with his temper.

CHAPTER THREE
    Grace heard a horse approaching.  From the sound of the hooves whisking across the gravel of the road, the rider was cantering at a fast clip.  She glanced over her shoulder just as their pursuer came into view.
    "Hold it right there, Miss Bennett!" Jackson Scott called.
    Michael and Eleanor spun to see who had hailed her.
    "Keep going," Grace told them.
    "Who is that?" Eleanor asked.
    "No one, at all," Grace grumbled.
    "Grace!"  Eleanor’s role for the day was that of perpetual scold.  "What is wrong with you?  You’re behaving like a lunatic."
    "Keep going!" Grace repeated more sternly, but Mr. Scott was upon them.
    He reined in and leapt to the ground with the agility of a circus performer.  Then he stomped over so they were toe to toe.  He jammed his fists on his hips and glared down his imperious nose.
    He looked completely different from the lazy hedonist who had so thoroughly offended her.  Now, he was attired as the rich, spoiled gentleman he was:  velvet riding coat, white cravat, tan breeches, black boots.
    The blue fabric of the coat set off the blue of his glorious eyes, deepening the hue, making them spark with temper. 
    "What do you want?" she sneered.
    "I’ve had a chat with Duncan Dane."
    "Bully for you."
    "I must insist you return with me to the Abbey."
    "No."
    "I won’t allow you to proceed on to the village."
    "You won’t allow me?" Grace sputtered with outrage.  She didn’t like to be ordered about.  Especially by an overbearing, pompous lout.  "I am not your sister or your wife or your employee.  You’re in no position to command me, and you are possessed of an enormous amount of gall if you suppose I would heed a single word that spews from your rude, obnoxious mouth."
    "Grace!" Eleanor wailed.
    "Stay out of this, Eleanor," Grace warned.
    "You can’t just… talk to him like that."
    "Trust me," Grace replied, "he’ll get over it."
    As to Mr. Scott, he was totally flummoxed.  Obviously, no one ever spoke to him as she had.  He was rendered speechless, and she used his bewilderment to escape, pushing Eleanor and Michael down the road ahead of her.
    "Who is he?" Michael begged to know.  "Is he my uncle?"
    He was gaping at Mr. Scott, and Mr. Scott was gaping, too.  Grace grabbed Michael’s arm, attempting to drag him away, but he wouldn’t move.
    Mr. Scott marched over and yanked Grace away.  He squatted, his troubled gaze assessing Michael’s attractive face and black hair, the blue, blue eyes