The Gentleman and the Rogue by Bonnie Dee, Summer Devon Read Free Book Online Page B

sir.”
    Alan wasn't going to give up the questions. He'd grown curious about Jem. “Do you usually steal from your customers?”
    Jem didn't take offense. “If I get the opportunity and it won't cause a great hardship for either of us. Don't want to take a wallet from a vengeful man. I got no morals, I expect,” he said as casually as if announcing he were out of salt.
    “How did you know I wasn't vengeful?”
    “You might well be.” Jem yawned. “You might be waiting for me to fall asleep, and then you'll drag me to the docks and put me in His Majesty's navy. Or you might cut my throat.”
    “Too messy,” Alan said.
    “Aha, you do know how to make a joke, sir—or so I hope. Would it be poison, then? I'm so sleepy, might well be.” He rubbed his chin, and the rasp was loud in the quiet, nearly dark room. “No, I know what 'tis.”
    Alan put his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. “How will I kill you, Jem?”
    “With kindness,” came the sleepy answer. “Food, warmth, safe place to sleep. Kindness. Mm. And a body a man could…” But then his voice petered out to be replaced by his slow, deep breathing.
    Alan hoisted himself onto an elbow and looked down at the sleeping Jem. Except for the faint shadow of stubble and his thin features, he could have been an innocent youth, although Alan expected he'd been a knowing, conniving sort since he first learned to speak.
    As he considered Jem's face and wondered about the man's secrets, Alan realized he didn't detect his usual companion—empty misery. As if testing a sore tooth, he allowed his thoughts to veer into forbidden territory. He shut his eyes and envisioned bodies lying in ditches, the unending screams of horses and men, and later, the screams of women and children as the British invaded the city.
    More memories he did not usually allow himself to see or feel flooded his mind, and he didn't fight the horror. Dragging a mangled Badgeman out of the pile of dead and dying. All those bodies of his men and boys, dead due to a general's stubbornness and folly. Coming home to find his family gone—father, mother, and brother as dead as soldiers killed in pointless battle. The nightmares he'd had while the medication for pain killed his spirit. He'd thrown off that yoke, but had been left a husk.
    He wondered what Jem would say should he hear Alan's story. He might try to get Alan to laugh it off. He could tell an obscene, stupid jest. God above, and all Alan would want was his embrace. He wouldn't seek anything more lurid than the soothing presence of another person sharing his bed. Determined to ignore the steady thrum of lust, he stripped off his clothes and inched closer to the middle of the bed where Jem sprawled, lightly snoring—a rather pleasant, companionable sound. Alan tried to gain the illusion of comfort from the sleeping man's warmth.
    His own behavior tonight had been erratic, crazy. It was lunacy to invite a prostitute and thief to spend the night in his house. Badgeman would probably be up all night, fearing his master's throat had been cut while he slept. But Alan was too sleepy and far too comfortable to care about how his actions might be construed or that he'd have to face reality in the morning. For now, he was content, at peace, and the comfort he gained from curling his body around the other man's was no illusion.
     
    Chapter Five
     
    Jem woke with sunlight in his eyes and a splitting headache that made him not want to open them. Not hungover, although his mouth was as dry as cotton. He slid his hands over the smooth sheet and the warm, hard body, and remembered where he was. A thrill of excitement woke him the rest of the way. This was an intriguing situation, something out of the ordinary, and who knew what the new day might bring?
    He ungummed his eyes and gazed at the ceiling above him. No cracks, flaking plaster, or mold stains—he definitely wasn't in Southwark anymore. Reaching up, he rubbed the side of his head and