Malia Martin Read Online Free Page B

would come cheaply.”
    He smiled, a slow, incredibly sexy smile that made Sara gulp down the food in her mouth without chewing completely. Her throat clenched and she coughed.
    “For you, my dear lady, I could see my way fit to offer my talents free of charge.”
    Sara wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin that sat on the table and stared. “Free of charge? Are you serious, sir?”
    “Very.” He scooted his chair closer to hers. “And you? How much do your talents cost?”
    Sara laughed and waved her hand in the air. “Oh, goodness, sir, I really do not have many talents. And, truly, those I have are not worth anything at all.”
    “Why is that so hard for me to believe?” the man asked, as he leaned toward her.
    “I . . . well, I do not know . . .” Sara shifted in her chair, her soup-filled spoon hanging over her bowl. He was terribly close, so close she could smell the silky scent of musk he must use at his toilette. To sit so close to such a virile man and breathe in his scent made her shiver. She felt her heart thump against her chest. She glanced around the intimate room. They werevery much alone, and Sara was beginning to get just a bit nervous. She tipped the spoon against her lips and swallowed.
    “Just by watching you eat a simple bowl of soup,” the man reached out and ran a finger along the edge of her torn bodice, “I’d wager a fortune that you have talents worth pounds of gold.”
    At the touch of his finger against her skin, Sara jumped, the spoon dropping with a clatter to the floor. The cook’s finger followed the edge of her low neckline, gliding over the top of one of her breasts. Her hands shaking, Sara crossed her arms before her and clutched her shoulders as she drew back. “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded.
    “Shall we eat later, my lady?” His eyelids dipped heavily and he opened his mouth, his tongue gliding over his pearly white teeth.
    “Oh dear.” Sara did not even recognize her own voice. And then his mouth came down on hers and she did not think she would ever recognize anything again.

Chapter 2
    T he cook’s tongue immediately invaded her mouth. And Sara did nothing to stop him, shock making her lips slack. His arms came about her, crushing her to his chest, and he slanted his mouth over hers. She curled her hands against his coat, thinking she ought to push the man away; but in that moment she realized that this kiss was not an attack. The man holding her and running his tongue along her teeth was making love to her with his mouth.
    And it felt good.
    She found herself opening her mouth just a touch, and actually meeting his tongue with her own. Her conduct was absolutely shocking, really, and Sara, of course, realized that she must stop him, and quickly. But suddenly, in this silent moment below the stairs, with a complete stranger holding her with gentle hands, Sara felt . . . cherished. And she knew, in her heart ofhearts, that she did want it to continue.
    The man’s hand crept up her back and plunged into her hair, cupping the back of her head. She trembled from head to toe, her body reacting to the cook’s obvious skill at seduction. Cherished? She pushed away suddenly, bringing her hand to her mouth and pressing it there. Perhaps she really was insane.
    “Hmm,” the cook’s voice rumbled deep in his chest.
    Sara swallowed hard and shoved her chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the stone floor. What a sad person she was, to think for a moment that this degenerate cook would cherish her. She huffed a small, disgusted breath and stood. Pulling herself up to her full height, which, unfortunately, was not all that tall, Sara tipped her head back. “You cook wondrously, young man, but your manners are atrocious. Now, I really must see the Duke. Is he here?”
    The man blinked, then chuckled and sat back at the table. He stirred his soup, bending his head over the bowl. Sara just stared at him.
    “Sit. Eat.” The man tipped a heaping