Lord Harry's Folly by Catherine Coulter (good romance books to read TXT) 📗

“No, it’s not. I will kiss you, but not just yet. Tell me, dear one, how did you enjoy your evening with Sir Harry and Mr. Scuddimore?”

“They were much pleased to see me. Oh, the devil. How did you know I’d seen them? I would have told you without you having me followed by one of your minions.”

“I quite understand, but a little prodding never hurts. Pottson was understandably concerned and practically begged me to ‘break you to the bit,’ I believe was his colorful way of putting it.”

“I can’t believe he’d betray me to you,” she said and slammed her teacup into its saucer. “I knew that he would take it upon himself to interfere. He always gives me those wounded looks of his, no matter what I wanted to do as Lord Harry. I even saw him praying once. Breaking me to the bit? How very gothic that sounds and well, maybe lots of fun, but just with you.”

“Does it really? Be careful what you say, Hetty, else I just might leap on you right now, right here in your father’s drawing room. Now, forgive me but I did ask him to keep an eye on you. I found a gray hair in my head yesterday morning. Since I want to be with you for the next fifty years or so, I had to do something. Also, you must know that Pottson rather has to obey me since he’ll be in my employ for many years to come.”

That sounded very nice to her and she gave him a smile that hit him down to his toes. God, she had a wonderful smile, a very female smile. He couldn’t imagine her as Lord Harry, he truly couldn’t. She was beautiful, her breasts full and soft. Lord, he wanted to kiss her and hold her, perhaps even cup her buttocks in his hands and raise her against him. He nearly groaned at the thought. He saw her naked so clearly, so beautifully naked and white and soft and his dark hand in the hollow of her belly and the contrast between them, ah, it was too much. He would surely expire on the spot if he didn’t elevate his thoughts immediately. He pictured her breasts and choked on his tea.

“Shall I hit you on the back? You’re all right? Of course you are and now you’re giving me one of your wicked looks that I like very much. But enough. I find it odd, your grace, that you were so very adamant in sending Lord Harry back home on the one hand and praising him to London society on the other. I find your actions difficult to fathom.”

What had she said? His thoughts were so powerfully real that he was utterly blank for a moment. Finally, he managed to say, “Do you really?”

She looked at her feet. What was the matter? He frowned at her, wondering what was going on in that beautiful head of hers when she blurted out, “I’m not at all like Melissande. I’m sorry, but I’m not and I’ll never be. I’m just me and I’m quite plain, but I am nice and I do have a sense of humor and I promise to make you laugh and”

“It’s true,” he said calmly. “You’re not at all like Melissande. She’s really quite voluptuous, her breasts are more than a man could ask for. She also knows every trick to please a man, to make him lie panting at her feet. I might also add that she rapidly becomes a dead bore. Her brain isn’t of the highest order, but then again, most men wouldn’t want that in a mistress. Listen, Hetty, she is what she is. And what she is is a mistress. She’s good at it. I’m damned thankful you’re not like her. You’re you and you’re beautiful and you’re everything a man could want in a mate. But, of course, you, I am persuaded, are already much aware of that fact. Surely you know I’d slay every dragon in England for you.”

She sighed. “Would you really, Jason?”

“Every bloody one,” he said. “Well, I might leave one for posterity, but that’s all, just one.”

“Melissande is rather silly, I expect, but so very beautiful.”

“I would like to know what the devil you said to her to make her pine so for Lord Harry.”

“Men don’t understand women. That is, women like Melissande need to be nourished on the most outlandish flattery. It makes them quite malleable, you know. At least that was my experience with her.”

“Can you be more specific, sweetheart?”

Ah, she liked the sound of that. “I likened her first of all to Aphrodite, being fairly certain that she would have heard of that lovely goddess. When images of Aphrodite began to pale, I cast her first as the romantic Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world, then threw in a dash of Daphne with handsome Apollo in hot pursuit. I must admit though that I did buy her a riding habit. That, I think, was the clincher, which doesn’t say all that much for my flattery.”

He threw back his head and laughed deeply. “You should have kept the habit for Miss Henrietta Rolland. It would have suited her fair coloring most admirably.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. It was far too short for me. Melissande lacks inches, you know.”

“Only in height, my dear Hetty, not, I assure you, anywhere else.”

“You’re dreadful and I will get you for that.”

“I can’t wait,” he said, and it was difficult for him to remain seated in his chair. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her until they were both silly with it. He drew a deep breath. “Tell me about Sir Harry and his problems.”

Oh well, Hetty thought, this is at least safe ground. She hesitated only a moment before recounting to him Sir Harry Brandon’s difficulties. He listened to her without interruption, his dark eyes never leaving her face. “So, you see, depending on Isabella’s