Three Rich Men: House of Midnight Fantasies / Forced to the Altar / The Millionaire's Pregnant Mistress. Michelle Celmer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ sounded convincing to Selene, but could she really believe him? She could usually rely on her instincts, though, and they were telling her he had no plans to injure her. As far as any other plans went—questionable plans—she supposed she would have to take her chances and keep a firm grip on self-control.

      She made a sweeping gesture toward the staircase. “After you.”

      He took the first step and when she hung back, he shifted slightly and offered his hand. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

      Selene wasn’t all that concerned with falling. Years of ballet lessons had cured her of any serious clumsiness. But she was concerned about touching him again. Concerned that she might experience another blow to her senses. Yet instead of insisting on managing without his help, she reached out and accepted his offered hand. This time, the contact sent a rush of heat coursing through her body, as if she were being warmed from the inside out. The sensation was overwhelming and as they started to ascend the stairs, it only grew more intense. He glanced back at her now and then with eyes as blue as the ceiling in the rotunda. By the time they reached the top, Selene was both winded and very, very warm, even when he released his grasp on her.

      The landing opened into another room, this one smaller with a narrow shelf housing volumes of aged books. In the corner sat a mahogany pedestal desk, and a lone straight-backed chair covered in red satin. The area was dusty, the ceiling draped with a few cobwebs, but other than that, it didn’t look at all menacing. At least where bats and bugs were concerned.

      “At one time this was the gargonniere,” Adrien said as he remained at her side. “The original bachelor’s quarters, probably used by a previous owner.”

      But obviously not used by Adrien, Selene thought. “Your grandfather?”

      He forked a hand through his hair. “No. Giles wasn’t one to stay in the same place for very long. He had a solid case of wanderlust. I inherited that from him.”

      She sent him a smile. “You’re inclined to travel, I take it.”

      “Not in a while.” He strolled to the bookshelves then faced her again. “I’ve been all over the world. Europe. Africa. Central America. Mostly off the beaten path. Spain is one of my favorite spots.”

      She walked to the desk and leaned against it. “Don’t tell me. You’ve run with the bulls in Pamplona.”

      “Actually, no. I would be more inclined to root for the bulls since I believe that animals sometimes have more merit than humans.”

      A point in his favor, Selene decided. “So you’re a thrill seeker as long as it doesn’t involve cruelty to animals.”

      “At one time, yes.”

      He looked and sounded regretful, and that only served to spur Selene’s interest. “I’ve been to Europe several times,” she said to break the brief span of uncomfortable silence. “Mostly London. The usual tourist spots.”

      He rested one elbow on the edge of the shelf. “Ever done any cliff diving in Mexico?”

      She laughed. “I’m not fond of heights.”

      “Ever stood on a deserted beach, naked, and watched the sun come up?”

      Only in her wildest dreams. “I’m afraid not.”

      “You should experience it at some point in time.”

      Little did he know, he’d taken her there through his recollections, images that were too strong to bar from her mind. She experienced the salty breeze blowing over her bare skin and the sun on her face, smelled the scents of the sea, felt his palms forming to her waist, curving over her abdomen and lower ….

      Forcing herself out of his fantasy, she turned her attention to the shelves to avoid his steady gaze. “I’ve often wondered what it would have been like to live years ago, when times were less complex and modern conveniences were nonexistent.”

      “I’ve been in places where you had to rely solely on nature,” he said. “It’s a rush.”

      Selene decided his deep, steady voice was a rush. “I’m too old and set in my ways to rough it too much.”

      He inclined his head and narrowed his eyes to assess her. “You’re what, maybe late twenties?”

      “Thirty-two. And you?”

      “Thirty-five. How old were you when you married?”

      Obviously he knew much more about her than she knew about him. “Twenty-four. I’ve been divorced for a year.”

      He paced the room’s perimeter, glancing at her now and then, as if he were some wild, agitated creature of the night assessing his quarry. “Seven years, just in time for that proverbial itch.”

      “You could definitely say that.”

      He stopped and leaned back against the shelves a few feet away from her. “Did that itch include both of you?”

      As much as she wanted to know Adrien better, she was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. Drudging up her past with Richard always made her ill at ease. “Maybe you could show me the journal now.”

      “If that’s what you want.”

      He headed straight for her with slow, stalking steps and Selene’s gaze immediately tracked to his mouth, the softness of his lips that contrasted with the rigid set of his jaw, the slight cleft in his chin. All too late she realized he’d noticed her interest when he showed some semblance of another smile. Knowing. Sensual.

      When he reached the desk, Selene stifled a catch of breath even though he passed by her. She regarded him over her shoulder to see him opening a drawer and withdrawing a small black journal that had seen better days. Olden days, she would guess.

      Adrien rounded the desk and offered it to her. “I’ve marked the place that might interest you.”

      She took the diary, opened it where a pale pink satin ribbon indicated the spot and noted the date at the top of the page—July 1875. But before she could scan the faded script, Adrien said, “Read it out loud.”

      She turned her attention from the page to him. “You haven’t read it?”

      “Yes, I have. But I want to hear your voice.”

      His voice was so indisputably sensuous, so compelling that Selene couldn’t think of one argument. She turned and laid the journal open on the desk while he began pacing the room once more. After clearing her throat, she began to read.

      “‘This afternoon, I again met Z. at the abandoned sharecropper’s cabin near the swamp at his plantation. Should my father discover I am keeping company with his enemy, he would be furious. If he knew what I have done, he would surely kill him.’”

      Selene paused and glanced back at Adrien to find him no more than a foot away. “Who wrote this?”

      “I don’t know. I came across it one day a few months ago.”

      “I’m wondering if maybe the woman named Grace in the portrait downstairs СКАЧАТЬ