Malia Martin Read Online Free Page A

servant would not accuse her, the Dowager Duchess of Rawlston, of thinking to steal his watch . . . would he?
    “Come,” the man said, and started down the hall.
    Sara stared after him for a moment of indecision. Should she run from the house? What if this man was some flash-cove? She did not see any servants running about.
    The man turned a corner, and she heard his footsteps clatter down stairs. He certainly acted as if he belonged here. He must be a servant, and he must know the whereabouts of the Duke. She must find the Duke. Sara closed her eyes, said a very quick prayer for her soul, just in case she was following the dark pirate man to her death, and ran after him.
    She found the stairs, saw a light at the bottom, and flew down them, ending in a large, bright kitchen. The pirate impersonator stood at a stove, stirring something in a small pot.
    Well, of course, he was the cook. The Duke probably had not gotten around to hiring any staff. But a cook one must have above all else. Still, he was not dressed like a cook. She eyed his tan breeches and dark coat, and remembered the silk cravat loosened about his neck.
    “Are you making dinner?” she asked tentatively.
    “Hmmm,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Just throwing together a little something. Are you hungry?”
    Sara’s stomach answered with a loud growl. She slapped her hands against her midsection and bit her lip.
    The pirate man turned and smiled hugely at her. For the love of St. Peter, what a smile the man had, a slash of perfectly straight white teeth against his swarthy skin. Oh, she could even picture a cutlass clenched between those teeth.
    “Sit. I’ll spoon you out a bowl of my famous chicken soup.” The man turned back to his work.
    She was sorely tempted, especially if it meant spending another moment staring at this lovely specimen of the male species. But she really must find the Duke. “Actually, I must get to my business.”
    The man chuckled, the sound rich and low. For a small moment she thought how nice it would be to sit in this cozy room, stare at this lovely man, listen to his melodic voice and eat his chicken soup. How would one ever get anything done with such a man below stairs?
    “But J am hungry. And you cannot get to your business until I am ready.”
    “I cannot?”
    “No, you cannot.” He ladled steaming broth into two bowls, took two spoons from a drawer, and turned toward her. “We should eat, keep up our energy and all that.”
    Sara could smell the delicious soup from across the entire room and it made her stomach take notice once again. Her mouth actually began to water. “Well, I am sure it would not hurt.” She felt a tiny prick of conscience at the thought of Grady sitting out under a shrub, but then Mr. Pirate slid the bowl beneath her nose and motioned for her to sit at the small kitchen table with him.
    She hadn’t eaten anything of substance in a fortnight. Grady would have to wait. She spooned a steaming bite into her mouth and closed her eyes. “Mmmm,” she moaned. “This is divine.”
    “Really?”
    “Oh, yes.” Sara took another bite and chewed. Her eyes snapped open. “Have you any bread?”
    “ Mais, oui, mademoiselle .” He stood and took a loaf from a cupboard. “Fresh bought this very morning.” Mr. Pirate tore off a chunk and handed it to her.
    “Merci!” She smiled and took his offering. She dunked it in the soup and bit off a piece. “Oh,” she cried. “This is wonderful.”
    “I’m so glad you approve.”
    “You are a glorious cook, sir.”
    “Well, thank you. I do try.”
    “I will most definitely have to hire you away from the Duke.” Sara rolled her eyes, her mouth full even as she spoke. “Well, I would, if I had any money to hire you away with .”
    The man lifted his dark brows in a mocking tilt. “You would?”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “I am rather cheap, actually.”
    Sara stopped chewing and stared at him round eyed. “Truly? I cannot imagine that your talents