For Your Arms Only by Linden, Caroline (best ebook reader for ubuntu .TXT) 📕

tried and failed to hide her smile. “He is. And I’m not sorry you struck him, I just wondered why you resorted to that so quickly.”

“I thought of doing it the moment I saw him. My restraint in waiting as long as I did is quite admirable, in my opinion.”

“I’ve long wondered why Lord Hastings sent you to help us.” She laid down her fork and knife to regard him levelly. “You said it must be due to your particular talents—I presume you meant punching people unconscious and stealing horses.”

Alec chuckled. She was sharp as a pin, this one. “Do you remember every last word I’ve ever said to you, with the hope of someday using it against me?”

“No!” Indignation made her blush. But then, much did, and she had the fair complexion to show off the color in her cheeks to its best advantage. He liked watching the wave of pink roll up her face, and couldn’t help thinking of other ways to make the color bloom under her skin. “You have asked me to explain and relate everything about my father, yet told me very little about yourself and how you plan to proceed. One day you say you’ve come to search through Papa’s papers, then to say we’re off to London to see a printer.”

“I never said you must come with me,” he corrected her, avoiding the thrust of her question. “There was really no need for you to meet the rat.”

“I want to help,” she protested. “He’s my father.”

“Your sister doesn’t ask to come along.”

“No.” She looked down at her lap. “Callie wouldn’t.”

She hadn’t eaten more than a few bites, and now looked rather woebegone. Alec thought of the lithographs—nothing he hadn’t seen a hundred times before, but it wasn’t his beloved father making them. She was doing her best, answering his questions and going along with his actions even when she didn’t understand and he wouldn’t explain. He sighed and poured more wine into both their glasses. “When I was in the army, I gathered intelligence. It’s not quite the same, but one learns tactics for discovering important information. Prenner wasn’t giving me answers, so I decided to search for them myself.”

“Gathering intelligence,” she repeated. “Like a spy?”

Alec choked on a mouthful of wine, then laughed ruefully as he set the glass down. “No. Well, yes, I suppose in some ways. I mostly spent my time riding about the countryside, asking people if they’d seen any Frenchmen go by.” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for more. “Sometimes they wouldn’t tell me, and I had to persuade them.”

“With your fist?”

“With my great charm,” he said, and finally she laughed. Alec grinned. “The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war, Miss Turner.”

“Your sister tells me you had a knack for achieving the impossible,” she said. “All this is forming a very colorful image of you, sir, quite unlike the one you have given me yourself.”

“Oh?” He leaned back in his chair. “What is the image you had formed?”

She became absorbed in tilting her glass back and forth, watching the wine swirl. “Not very colorful. Quite dark, in fact. You frightened me.”

“I could tell,” he said dryly. “I’d never been shot by a woman before.”

“You still haven’t been, to my knowledge.” But she smiled again. “Are you certain nothing would happen to Papa for those drawings?”

He considered a moment before replying. “Can I swear it? No. I don’t think he would be sent to prison or tried for libel, but if he offended the wrong person…” He stopped as her expression grew tense. “It’s highly unlikely.”

“But he disappeared after coming to London,” she said. “He might have come to see Mr. Prenner as well as Lord Hastings.”

“He might have done. But there’s no record in Prenner’s ledger of a payment around that time.” She looked at him steadily. They both knew that meant nothing. Alec sat forward in his chair, trying to change the subject. He wasn’t used to light conversation, especially not with women. “A colorful image, you say. Dare I ask?”

Her eyes dropped, and she sipped her wine. “Better not. I daresay much of it is exaggerated.”

“Really. You tease my curiosity unbearably.”

“You?” She raised her eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That I have curiosity, or that you tease me?”

The color was rising in her cheeks again. “I do not tease you.” He just tilted his head to one side and studied her. The pink deepened to dusky rose. “I do not.”

“Right.” He poured more wine. “Now I shall be awake all night, worrying about your opinion of me.”

“Oh, really,” she exclaimed. “By now you must have such an opinion of me that it could hardly matter what I say to you.”

“My opinion of you,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Would you like to know it? I think you are the head of your family, even when your father is about. It must be wearing, to feel such responsibility. But you’re practical, and willing to do what needs doing. Loyal to those you love, ready to defend them against all harm, and wary of outsiders. But you’re not intractable in either instance and will listen to reason.” He paused; there was more to his opinion of her, but he sensed this was the main point. “I suspect you want to be more trusting, but have been burned by it in the past.”

“Who hasn’t?” she said with a forced smile.

“I understand.”

She shook her head. “No, you couldn’t. My sister…She was married to an absolute devil. He was older, handsome and respectable and rich—rich in our eyes, at least. Callie was only eighteen, and the most beautiful girl in town. When Mr. Phillips came calling on her, we were all so delighted; Papa was very pleased, and Granny was beside herself at the thought of Callie snaring such a fine gentleman. He spoke to Papa and they were married almost immediately, but then…” She paused, then went on in a flat voice, “I think he beat