Along Came a Rogue by Anna Harrington Read Free Book Online Page B

after the way she’d begged off his company this afternoon and evening, he suspected that her bouts of illness were more convenience than convalescence.
    Still, he considered as he tugged his shirt over his head, people changed—he certainly had—and he hadn’t seen her in five years. His only information about her during that time had been whatever news Thomas thought to share, and Grey didn’t dare ask for more. He heaved out a breath as he sat on the chair and reached for his boots. The brat had certainly grown up. The stick with braids had matured into her long legs and golden hair, into those big blue eyes. And he could have sworn she smelled of cinnamon.
    Not that it mattered how good she smelled, or looked, or felt—she was completely untouchable. Since his return to England, he’d made a specialty of bedding society widows. They knew how to separate sex from love and posed no threat to his freedom, and rarely were there complications. But this widow was an endless complication.
    He blew out a harsh breath. He’d been too long without a woman beneath him, that was all. With everything that had happened during the past few weeks, sex had been the last thing on his mind, so naturally, he should feel aroused when he was around a beautiful woman.
    That was it. Had to be. Because the alternative, that he actually found the brat desirable, was unthinkable.
    He didn’t bother buttoning his waistcoat or tucking in his shirt before heading downstairs to find a bottle of liquor to help him sleep. There was no need to finish dressing. After all, no one would see him. The few remaining servants were asleep upstairs, undoubtedly Emily would claim illness all through tomorrow morning and well into the afternoon in order to avoid him, and in his room next door, Hedley snored loudly enough to wake the dead.
    But as he passed the upstairs sitting room, he saw light falling softly beneath the closed door. So…someone was awake after all.
    He opened the door silently.
    Emily sat reading a book on the settee near the small fire. In her lavender satin robe, with her bare feet tucked beneath her and her golden hair falling freely in thick waves around her shoulders, she resembled the carefree young woman he’d known five years ago. Except that a second, more lingering look revealed the truth. Before him sat an experienced and challenging woman with a sensuous and very kissable mouth, long legs perfect for wrapping around a man’s waist, and full curves that could provide hours of delightful distraction. And he was achingly aware of every delectable, tempting inch of her.
    And that , he grudgingly admitted to himself, was the real reason he couldn’t get her out of his head tonight. Because for a brief moment in the garden when he’d been lying on top of her and she’d been wiggling beneath him, he’d wanted to be buried inside her.
    As if feeling the heat of his gaze, she looked up with a soft gasp and froze. The same horrible fear he saw in her that afternoon gripped her pretty face for just an instant before she realized it was him. Then the fear melted into uncertainty, and she bit her bottom lip indecisively for just a moment before finally sending him a faint smile.
    Well. She didn’t seem happy to see him, but at least she wasn’t firing a gun at him. A decided improvement. And with this woman, he’d gladly take whatever victories he could get.
    He leaned against the doorjamb, not daring to step inside the room. “You’re awake, Mrs. Crenshaw.”
    “So are you.” She closed the book and set it aside, sliding her legs off the settee as she sat up and unwittingly giving him a fleeting glimpse of smooth, shapely calves.
    “Couldn’t sleep.” He cleared his throat and forced his eyes away from her legs. “Thought I’d look for a whiskey.” Although the sight of her was much more intoxicating.
    She hesitated, then offered, “Would brandy do?”
    His stomach churned at the thought of the stuff, and if he had a