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Full Download Visions Torrides Psi Changeling 02 Nalini Singh Claire Jouanneau Translator Online Full Chapter PDF
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Nalini
Singh
Visions torrides
Psi-changeling – 2
Vaughn d'Angelo peut prendre la forme d'un homme ou d'un
jaguar. Sa part animale ne peut résister à Faith, cette femme qui
possède le rare talent de prédire l'avenir. L'instinct du jaguar lui
souffle qu'il doit faire sienne cette femme qu'il trouve si fascinante,
et l'homme n'est pas de taille à lutter. Mais, alors que Vaughn a faim
de sensations et souhaite satisfaire Faith de toutes les manières
possibles, la passion risque de porter le coup de grâce à la santé
mentale vacillante de celle-ci. Et d'autres Psys comptent bien utiliser
le talent de Faith à leur avantage...
Milady
Prologue
DÉMENCE
After tea, when Miss Parrett was engaged in scolding her domestics
and writing violent postcards to her tradesmen, Mrs. Ramsay drew
Aurea into the drawing-room.
“Well, me dear,” and her dark eyes danced, “I did not say a word
before your aunts, but I’ve seen the remarkable chauffeur! I assure
you, when I opened the door and found him standing there with a
large box, you might have knocked me down with the traditional
feather! I was taking the new dogs out for a run, and so we walked
together to this gate.”
“What do you think of him?” asked Aurea, carelessly, as she
rearranged some daffodils in a blue bowl.
“What do I think? I think—although he scarcely opened his lips—that
there is some mystery attached to him, and that he is a gentleman.”
“Why do you say so?” inquired the girl, anxious to hear her own
opinion endorsed. “He is not a bit smarter than the Woolcocks’ men.”
“Oh, it’s not exactly smartness, me dear, it’s the ‘born so’ air which
nothing can disguise. His matter-of-course lifting his cap, walking on
the outside, opening the gate, and, above all, his boots.”
“Boots!”
“Yes, his expensive aristocratic shooting boots; I vow they come from
Lobbs. Jimmy got his there—before he lost his money.”
“Perhaps the chauffeur bought them second-hand?” suggested
Aurea.
Mrs. Ramsay ignored the remark with a waving hand.
“I cannot think what has induced a man of his class to come and
bury himself here in this God-forsaken spot.”
“Ottinge-in-the-Marsh is obliged to you!”
“Now, you know what I mean, Aurea. You are a clever girl. I put the
question to him, and got no satisfactory answer. Is it forgery, murder,
piracy on the high seas, somebody’s wife—or what?” She rested her
chin on her hand, and nodded sagaciously at her companion. “I
understand that he has been working indoors a good deal, and
helping you and Miss Susan.” She paused significantly. “You must
have seen something of him. Tell me, darling, how did you find him?”
“Most useful, wonderfully clever with his hands, strong, obliging, and
absolutely speechless.”
“Ah! Does he have his meals here?”
“No.”
“Dear me, what a cruel blow for the maid-servants! Did he come
from a garage?”
“No; a friend of Aunt Bella’s found him.”
“A woman friend?”
“Yes; she gave him an excellent character.”
“And what of hers?”
“Oh, my dear Kathleen, she is Lady Kesters, a tremendously smart
Society lady, awfully clever, too, and absolutely sans reproche!”
“Is that so?” drawled Mrs. Ramsay. “Well, somehow or other, I’ve an
uneasy feeling about her protégé. There is more than meets the eye
with respect to that young man’s character, believe me. My woman’s
instinct says so. I’m sorry he has come down and taken up your
aunt’s situation, for I seem to feel in me bones that he will bring
trouble to some one.”
“Oh, Kathleen! You and your Irish superstitions!” and Aurea threw up
her hands, clasping them among her masses of hair, and stared into
her friend’s face and laughed.
“Well, dear, if he does nothing worse, he will have half the girls in
love with him, and breaking their hearts. It’s too bad of him, so good-
looking, and so smart, coming and throwing the ‘comether’ over this
sleepy little village. Believe me, darlin’, he has been turned out of his
own place; and it would never surprise me if he was just a nice-
looking young wolf in sheep’s clothing!”
“Oh, what it is to have the nice, lurid, Celtic imagination!” exclaimed
Aurea. “I don’t think the poor man would harm a fly. Joss has taken
to him as a brother—and——”
“Miss Morven as—a sister?”
“Now, what are you two conspiring about?” inquired Miss Susan,
entering, brisk, smiling, and inquisitive.
“I’m only discussing your chauffeur, me darlin’ Miss Susan. I notice
that several of the village girls drop in on Mrs. Hogben—you see I
live opposite—and they expose their natural admiration without
scruple or reserve.”
“Owen is a useful young man, if he is a bit ornamental—isn’t he,
Aurea? I’m going to get him to help me in the greenhouse, for I don’t
believe, at this rate, that we shall ever use the car.”
CHAPTER XIII
THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS