The Rogue and I by Eva Devon Read Free Book Online Page B

that he was a duke’s son. . . And well, her family had been ruined, hadn’t it? She was far beneath a man such as he. In his eyes. Men like him slept with girls from her walk of life, but they did not marry them.
    Not in the end.
    “I don’t want to hear it,” she repeated again, her voice softer.
    It was haunting though. The knowledge that she so desperately tried to ignore. He had planned to marry her. She supposed, it was she that had struck the first blow and then he had landed the killing strike to their love.
    As if the long silence between them had not indicating any sort of inner turmoil wracking her, he lowered his gaze and said softly, “Would you rather I show it.”
    The very implication of those words was enough to turn her into a quivering spot on the floor. If. . . If she had been the same girl she’d been five years ago, nothing would have stopped her from striding into his room and demanding that he show her all through the long night.
    Now. Now? All she could think of was standing cold, shivering in the piercing rain with a valise meant for travel to Gretna Green. Waiting. Waiting with so much futile desperation until she had waited hours past hope.
    That was the memory that she allowed to play through her mind. To poison the ardor so cruelly playing at her skin and emotions. Nor did she wish him to know that he still had any power over her.
    So, she let a seductive smile play at her lips. Oh, she had not forgotten how the game was played, even if she no longer played it. She lowered her eyes, knowing her lashes would tease her pale cheekbones. Slowly. Ever so slowly, she took steps towards him.
    With only the smallest distance between them, she could smell the scent of Spanish oranges and aromatic brandy. It evoked a terrifying need immediately within her. It tingled straight along the sensitive skin of her arms right to the hot place between her legs. It wasn’t pleasant because it was not welcome. Not this continued instant response to his physical presence.
    Even so, she didn’t back down. She cocked her head to the side, her curls falling over her shoulder, caressing her slightly bare breasts. Drawing in a breath, she reached out and took his glass in her fingertips.
    To her astonishment, he didn’t let go, but rather kept his own fingers along the glass. Their skin almost touched but not quite. Their eyes met with instant hunger. She didn’t stop. Oh no. Pointedly, she drew the glass and his arm closer. With him helping her, her eyes open, locked with his, she tilted the cool crystal to her lips and drank the spicy drink.
    It burned a hot stripe down her insides, just like his touch might do to her outside. She could have sworn that she could see his pulse leap in his neck.
    “Come in,” he whispered, a ragged note to his deep voice.
    She stepped back, dropping her hand away. Every part of her urged her to do as he said, except the part that mattered the most. Her heart. Smiling slightly, she lifted her hand and rubbed her thumb along her lower lip, wiping the last of the drops away.
    His gaze followed the movement, like a man lost at sea watches the clouds for rain.
    A laugh of pure pleasure issued from her throat. Cruelty even, rang softly from her. “Always a pleasure to get the best of you , my lord .”
    The mirroring words that he had spoken earlier in the day filled the space between them and a look of shocked astonishment wiped away the one of growing desire on his face.
    Before he could form a reply, she whipped towards the empty hall, her heart thumping so hard she feared she might drop upon the perfectly woven runner. Oh, the triumph of it! She walked away quickly, knowing the long train of her robe chased after her. Knowing he watched her disappear into the dark corridor!
    Nothing could have been more perfect.
    Unless. . . Unless she had kissed him. Harry sucked in a sharp breath at the horrifying thought. No. That evil voice was severely mistaken. The look on his face would