Read The Devil May Care (Brotherhood of Sinners #1) for Free Online Page B

same timbre. The rhythm of her speech. She held her shoulders in exactly the same way. Even her fingernails were the same shape, efficiently short, with neat half-moons at the tips.
    Part of his brain was convinced she was Sal, and that part was slipping, quite without his consent, into that old, easy familiarity. Yet, the other part knew she . . . wasn’t . She was an utter mystery to him, a complete stranger. And he wanted to understand her.
    What must her life have been, locked away up in Lancashire, a servant in a stranger’s home, embalmed in dark wool? Sal would’ve gone mad in a month.
    Was this girl weaker than Sal, or stronger? “Is that why you’re helping us?” he asked. “To feel alive ? To have an adventure?”
    Abruptly, she was the stiff little governess again, her eyes blazing. “No! I’m doing this for my sister. For Sarah. Not for adventure. Not for England, either.” She held up a hand, palm out, though he hadn’t made the least move towards her. “And I’m certainly not doing it for you!”
    Odd thing to say . He paused. Made himself breathe. Turned himself arch and combative. “Did I suggest otherwise?” he asked. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, in any case. If the worst ends up happening, I’d hate to have you on my conscience.”
    At that, her face shuttered. “Might you find Jenny for me now?” she asked, her tone quite crisp again. Their conversation was clearly over. “I’d like to change back into my own clothing.”
    “The scratchy wool?”
    “Yes. This is . . . ” Her voice trailed off. “I’d prefer something familiar just now. I feel scarcely dressed in this.” She blushed again, and crossed her arms over her chest, clutching her upper arms with her spread fingers, as if to hide herself.
    Oh, Lord, he wished she hadn’t done that. There was something so graceful and feminine and inadvertently sensuous in the gesture—the gesture of a nymph , not a nun. Not to mention that the pressure of her crossed wrists plumped her breasts into a truly luscious cleavage.
    He edged closer to her again, but deliberately kept his eyes fixed on hers, not a quarter-inch lower. “I assure you, by the standards of the demimonde, that gown’s fairly modest.”
    She regarded him warily, took a step back. “But I do not belong to the demimonde.”
    “If you wish to avenge your sister, you will. You must.” Thankfully, his voice sounded stern and entirely composed, the voice of a cool professional. “Covering yourself like that would reveal to anyone who knew her that you are not Sal.”
    A troubled look crossed the girl’s face. She clearly understood the difficulty of the challenge she’d accepted, but understanding seemed to make it no easier for her. Her arms still clamped her bosom.
    He could not afford to show her pity.
    She was to make her first appearance as Salomé at Lady Barham’s in three nights’ time. If she passed muster, they’d set out for Spain soon after, headed for the place where Sal died. Where Rachel would die as well, if she made the smallest error.
    This was about training, pure and simple.
    He slid his own fingers between hers and the bare flesh of her arms, and pulled her stiff hands loose. She tried to step away from him.
    “Now, that won’t do, love,” he chided her, wrapping his hands around her upper arms, just below her shoulders. He caressed her skin, down to her elbows and back again, just enough of a hold to keep her close to him, just enough stroking to make her shiver.
    Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.
    He kept up the caress, with his fingers and with his words. “Sal might laugh in a man’s face and push him away, or give him a playful slap of her fan. Perhaps promise him pleasure later, at her own convenience. But she’d never show fear. She was in control always, confident always. The way a skilled collie handles sheep.”
    Miss Covington’s mouth fell open in a gasp, the alarm on her face quite palpable, just a step away