When Like Minds Collide (Brightmore #1)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Imogen, where are you going?" Oriana called as her sister brushed past the open door of her bedroom.

Imogen popped her head around the door frame and grinned. "There's a book I want," she told her sister. "I'm going to talk to Mr Dederich and see if he won't sell it to me for a reasonable price."

"If mother catches you buying from a gentlemen's bookstore-"

Imogen rolled her eyes. "Ori, please." She flashed a smile at her sister. "Do you want to join me?"

Oriana snorted dismissively. "I'm busy," she told her. "You go and I'll read the book once you're done with it."

Imogen threw her sister a negligent wave before she darted down the stairs. It was the perfect time to sneak out the house- her mother was having her afternoon nap, her younger siblings were tormenting their governesses and Aunt Beatrix was taking her daily stroll. If Imogen wanted, she could get away with murder. Technically speaking, what she was about to do would be considered just as bad... Purchasing a book from a well-known gentlemen's bookstore would cause a scandal so disastrously monumental her mother would promptly order Imogen to a monastery.

Smiling to herself at the thought, Imogen placed an extra spring to her step as she descended the last of the hallway's stairs and reached for her mauve-coloured coat. Her hand froze midway as the door swung open and Beatrix's booming voice resounded off the walls and ceilings as she made her entrance. "-EAGER TO MEET YOU!" she was saying to an invisible person who was standing just out of Imogen's line of sight. Beatrix beamed happily at whoever she was talking to and turned to enter the house, her gaze riveting on Imogen. "OH, I SAY! HERE'S THE GIRL I WAS TELLING YOU ABOUT!"

Imogen watched as a tall man entered the house before immense heat infused her cheeks. All the sordid things Beatrix had hollered during breakfast flooded Imogen's mind as she beheld the handsome stranger that stood on their threshold and mortification at what he might have heard about her almost suffocated her.

He was undoubtedly the most handsome man she had ever seen and if she had to sum him up with a few choice adjectives her list would include: tall, dark and... gorgeous.

His hair was a darker shade of brown and cut unfashionably long, curling over his temples and tied in a queue at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. His eyes were the colour of warm brandy and pinned on her form intently. There was nothing boyish about this man- he was all lithe form and taut muscle. Masculine virility oozed from him in tumultuous waves that hit Imogen with the full force of a hurricane, leaving her quite breathless and affected. His face was ruggedly built, with a slightly crooked nose, strong chin and a chiselled square jaw. His shoulders were broad under the crisp white shirt he wore and tapered down to a narrow waist and firmly sculpted thighs.

She felt like someone had punched her in the chest. He was devastatingly handsome and Imogen couldn't remember any other man having the same effect on her senses despite having made acquaintance with some of the more rakish equivalents in society. There was something different about this man, something poignantly significant that she was neither immune to nor unaware of.

"DON'T JUST STAND THEIR, GEL!" Beatrix thundered pompously, rushing forward and yanking Imogen's frozen arm so that she stumbled forward. "INTRODUCE YOURSELF TO OUR GUEST!"

Imogen stared at the man dumbly as a wry smile twisted those sensually wide, firm lips. She stared at that smile as if it were the eyes of a hypnotic snake, her heart tripping over itself within the confines of her chest, and for the life of her she could not articulate an appropriate response. His jaw, she noted, appeared to be unfamiliar with the concept of a razor. That, or his valet should be terminated from his position, though perhaps she ought to promote him because the affect was... ponderously appealing. "Uh..."