Guardian to the Heiress Read Online Free Page B

arousing feelings of which she had scarcely been aware. Not that he’d be interested in her. She was a twenty-year-old student, not some voluptuous beauty with a goodly share of experience in bed.
    “Is that important?” he asked.
    She had a sudden picture of herself as an instrument; a man like him could play a woman’s feelings at will. She shook her head so vigorously, her curls bounced. “No, but I thought Marcus Bradfield was my grandfather’s solicitor.”
    “Was for many years,” he said. “But your grandfather appointed me in this case. I wanted to tell you about his death before anyone else did, or you simply saw it on TV. The media will have the news by now.”
    “The great man is dead. Long live the king,” she said rather mournfully. “I shudder to think it might be Uncle Maurice?”
    “We have to wait to see what transpires. Mind if I take off my jacket?”
    “Go right ahead.” As she guessed he had a great body; all of his movements had an athlete’s grace. So, lawyer and action man. He had taken Tarik, who was strong, down without raising a sweat. She watched him place his tailored jacket over a chair before he loosened his silk tie. His every movement was imprinting itself on her brain. This was ridiculous. So ridiculous, she resented it.
    She took the makings of a salad out of the crisper. “I don’t need a penny of his money. The way he treated me, the way the family treated me, was monstrous.”
    He heard the deep hurt beneath the condemnation in her voice. “I agree, but I didn’t come here with apologies, Carol. The will speaks for itself. Your grandfather clearly wanted to make reparation.”
    “My grandfather with the stone heart! Does the rest of the family know? My Uncle Maurice, Dallas and my creepy cousin Troy—I see him around. He’s even tried to chat me up. What a joke!”
    “Has he really?” Damon found himself not liking that one bit. Her tone had implied Troy Chancellor’s approach hadn’t been cousinly.
    “Alas, yes. I don’t like him. Let’s eat, before you tell me any more. I’m fast losing my appetite.”
    “Can I help?”
    She shook her head. “A salad is simplicity itself. Let me get you a glass of wine—red or white?”
    “I’ll have red, if you’ve got it?”
    “Mmm, I think so. Have a look in there.” She pointed to one of the Chinese cabinets.
    He didn’t open the beaded doors immediately. He stood studying the piece of furniture that stood on rounded straight feet. “You know what you’ve got here?”
    “I do indeed.” Her tone mocked. “I have a pair of pagoda-form side tables in my bedroom, but you’re not going in there.”
    “You like Oriental furniture?” That was obvious. He knew Selwyn Chancellor had been a major collector.
    “Who wouldn’t? If I get to know you well enough, I’ll show you my celadon jade carving. Qianlong. ”
    “Ah, another collector in the making.”
    “I’m told I have the eye.”
    “I’m sure you have. Like your grandfather. He was a renowned collector.” He opened one of the cabinet doors, studying the labels before selecting a bottle of Tasmanian pinot noir.
    “I know.” Suddenly she was remembering the endless treasure trove her grandfather and his father before him had collected over the years. She had been just a little girl, yet her memories had stayed with her—the way her grandfather had held her hand as he had walked her down the long gallery filled with pictures in gilded frames, telling her the names of the artists and a little about them. She remembered his jade collection in the tall glass cabinets; all the Chinese porcelains; the tall “soldier” vases enamelled with birds and flowers; the blue and white porcelain; the famille rose and the famille noir. She remembered the wonderful famille verte fishbowls on their rosewood stands that had stood in the hallway. They’d always been filled with big pots of cymbidium orchids in full bloom. And this Damon Hunter asked her if she knew