Read Online Cachet by Shannah Biondine - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shannah Biondine
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said anything, Rachel. Too much ale this afternoon, then your tears. Never expected them from you, even as you never expected sentiment from me. Well." He cleared his throat. "Now that I've made a complete fool of myself, I beg your forbearance and take my leave."
"I don't think you're a fool." She'd followed him to the entry. Now she placed her fingertips on his sleeve.
"Christ, don't tell me what you do think. My sole interest is in myself and trade. I'm arrogant, incapable of compassion or genuine feeling. I've heard it before from the local wenches. I don't need to hear it from you."
"I'm not a local girl, remember?" she asked softly. "You're capable of compassion. You just proved that. I know there's more to you than handsome looks. Though certainly no woman could complain on that score." She couldn't resist grinning at having turned his own words back on him. "You wouldn't be the first man I've known to hide a soft heart under a gruff exterior. My father's like that at times." She remembered Jeremiah's fist banging down on the table as he insisted she must stay with Violet. "I understand about trade being so important. You're not a fool, Morgan."
His mustache curved up as his arms slid around her waist. "Finally, my Christian name."
"It seems appropriate tonight."
He pulled her close against his chest. "Tell me to go, Rachel. Right this second. If you don't, I'm going to kiss you." His face lowered by inches until his lips brushed hers. "Toss me out."
"No," she murmured, sliding her arms up around his neck. She melted against him, parting moist and pliant lips to admit his tongue. Her tongue met his and they shared a deep, prolonged kiss.
"Christ, but you've got my head swimming," he whispered. "I can't tell you how desperately I've wanted to do that. But you shouldn't have allowed it, Rachel."
"Maybe not, but I've wondered what your lips would taste like... Ale ," she teased. She lowered her face and snuggled against his chest. "I wondered how your arms would feel." She glanced back up. "Safe."
"That's not the usual adjective," he remarked, cocking an eyebrow. She only smiled. "Don't smile at me like that, or I'll suspect you enjoy kissing me." Her lips curved even wider. "Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, madam?"
She felt his arousal pressed too intimately against her through her skirts. "No sir. I'm glad you got the signet back. Thank you for a pleasant evening." She slipped from his arms and moved to the door, waiting, once again the prim and proper office clerk. The smile she gave him now was polite, but gone was the playful side she'd revealed just seconds before.
Morgan stared at her. "This alters things, Rachel." He stepped closer and let his lips brush hers again. "I won't just stand in the shadows next time. I'll use my key."
She firmly shook her head. "I'd be forced to toss you out then. I'm still your clerk, and you're still Pamela's beau."
"Piss on Pamela. I'm finished with her. It's you haunting my nights, Colonial." His voice was strained as he stared into her eyes. "When do you give up the black?"
She hesitated in answering. "I...haven't decided yet."
"You haven't decided?"
There was a long silence as neither of them spoke. Then Morgan's features hardened. "I presume you know when that alcoholic husband of yours died?" She grudgingly nodded.
He jerked the door open and stepped past her. "I'm too old for parlor games. See you at the office, widow ."
Chapter 7
It was a bone-chilling night in early November. Leaves swirled in the deep gloom and the promise of frost hung in the evening air. Rachel ignored the jostling of the carriage as they bounced along the rutted road north of the village. Chrissandra and Boyd spoke in hushed tones, gloved hands clasped above the lap robe. Rachel stared out her window into the darkness, lost in thought. She'd returned only yesterday from London. She was dressed in a gown of deep crimson velvet trimmed with ecru lace at the throat and
"I don't think you're a fool." She'd followed him to the entry. Now she placed her fingertips on his sleeve.
"Christ, don't tell me what you do think. My sole interest is in myself and trade. I'm arrogant, incapable of compassion or genuine feeling. I've heard it before from the local wenches. I don't need to hear it from you."
"I'm not a local girl, remember?" she asked softly. "You're capable of compassion. You just proved that. I know there's more to you than handsome looks. Though certainly no woman could complain on that score." She couldn't resist grinning at having turned his own words back on him. "You wouldn't be the first man I've known to hide a soft heart under a gruff exterior. My father's like that at times." She remembered Jeremiah's fist banging down on the table as he insisted she must stay with Violet. "I understand about trade being so important. You're not a fool, Morgan."
His mustache curved up as his arms slid around her waist. "Finally, my Christian name."
"It seems appropriate tonight."
He pulled her close against his chest. "Tell me to go, Rachel. Right this second. If you don't, I'm going to kiss you." His face lowered by inches until his lips brushed hers. "Toss me out."
"No," she murmured, sliding her arms up around his neck. She melted against him, parting moist and pliant lips to admit his tongue. Her tongue met his and they shared a deep, prolonged kiss.
"Christ, but you've got my head swimming," he whispered. "I can't tell you how desperately I've wanted to do that. But you shouldn't have allowed it, Rachel."
"Maybe not, but I've wondered what your lips would taste like... Ale ," she teased. She lowered her face and snuggled against his chest. "I wondered how your arms would feel." She glanced back up. "Safe."
"That's not the usual adjective," he remarked, cocking an eyebrow. She only smiled. "Don't smile at me like that, or I'll suspect you enjoy kissing me." Her lips curved even wider. "Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, madam?"
She felt his arousal pressed too intimately against her through her skirts. "No sir. I'm glad you got the signet back. Thank you for a pleasant evening." She slipped from his arms and moved to the door, waiting, once again the prim and proper office clerk. The smile she gave him now was polite, but gone was the playful side she'd revealed just seconds before.
Morgan stared at her. "This alters things, Rachel." He stepped closer and let his lips brush hers again. "I won't just stand in the shadows next time. I'll use my key."
She firmly shook her head. "I'd be forced to toss you out then. I'm still your clerk, and you're still Pamela's beau."
"Piss on Pamela. I'm finished with her. It's you haunting my nights, Colonial." His voice was strained as he stared into her eyes. "When do you give up the black?"
She hesitated in answering. "I...haven't decided yet."
"You haven't decided?"
There was a long silence as neither of them spoke. Then Morgan's features hardened. "I presume you know when that alcoholic husband of yours died?" She grudgingly nodded.
He jerked the door open and stepped past her. "I'm too old for parlor games. See you at the office, widow ."
Chapter 7
It was a bone-chilling night in early November. Leaves swirled in the deep gloom and the promise of frost hung in the evening air. Rachel ignored the jostling of the carriage as they bounced along the rutted road north of the village. Chrissandra and Boyd spoke in hushed tones, gloved hands clasped above the lap robe. Rachel stared out her window into the darkness, lost in thought. She'd returned only yesterday from London. She was dressed in a gown of deep crimson velvet trimmed with ecru lace at the throat and
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