To Surrender to a Rogue by Cara Elliott Read Free Book Online Page B

you might knock me flat on my culo again."
    Diavolo. He did seem to bring out the worst in her.
    Jack handed the basket to the clerk. "Lady Giamatti is purchasing supplies for her daughter, Jenkins. Make sure you help her select items that are appropriate for a child of eight." With that, he snapped a mock salute and left the shop.
    "Er, yes, sir," said the clerk as the door fell shut
    It was only now that Alessandra thought to wonder what Jack was doing here in the first place. He was obviously acquainted with the clerk and the merchandise. "Is that gentleman a regular customer?" she asked.
    "Yes, madam." Without looking up, the clerk started down the aisle, adding several brushes to her basket, followed by a box of colored pencils.
    "Why?"
    "Why?" The young man appeared a trifle confused. "Why, to purchase paints and brushes, madam. And paper, of course."
    "Is he an artist?" Somehow Alessandra couldn't quite picture Lord James Jacquehart Pierson living in a garret studio painting pictures of dead pheasants or bowls of fruit
    "I dunno. I never asked him."
    It seemed that there was a mystery surrounding the gentleman. But seeing she was not likely to get any more information, Alessandra let the subject drop.
    Everyone had secrets, she told herself with an inward sigh.
    With the young man's help, the list was quickly filled and the supplies assembled on the counter. The last selection that she made was a large inlaid mahogany case, specially designed to hold the assortment of paints and brushes. After paying for her purchases, Alessandra tucked the parcel under her arm and returned to her carriage. Still, as she settled back against the squabs, she couldn't put the strange encounter out of her mind. Perhaps her fellow 'Sinners' were right and there was more to Lord James Jacquehart Pierson than first met the eye...
    No, no, no. She must not let herself think that the Prince of Darkness might have any redeeming qualities.
    Si grand new diavolo. He was too devilishly dangerous to allow into her life. Whatever the inexplicable force was that seemed to draw them together, she must fight it with all her might.
    Black Jack couldn't be a friend. So he must remain an enemy.
    Deciding he was not in the mood for female company after all. Jack rapped on the trap of his carriage and called out a change in destination. The high-priced nymphs at Cupid's Cave—Jeannette in particular—would, of course, have any number of delightful ways to elevate his spirits. However, the afternoon encounter with Lady Alessandra della Giamatti had left him feeling... unsettled.
    He had, in truth, been in a brooding frame of mind for some time. Even his friend Lucas—who until recently had not been known for refraining from excess—had remarked that he was drinking and whoring too much. Was it any wonder? With little to stimulate his imagination, he found himself bored to flinders.
    Jack fell back against the squabs, the pelter of a passing shower echoing his muttered oath. Slutting his seat, he pressed a palm to one of the rain-spattered windowpanes and slowly wiped the mist from the glass. The chill seeped through his skin, sending a tiny shiver snaking down his spine.
    In the smoky light of the oil lamp he could just make out his own reflection. Leaning in closer, Jack curled his lips upward.
    "Ha!"
    See, the marchesa was wrong — he was perfectly capable of smiling.
    The laugh might have been more of a snort, but that was beside the point She had no right to criticize, not when her own expression took on such a razored edge whenever she looked at him.
    Cutting. Contemptuous.
    Yet he couldn't keep from picturing her emerald green eyes, alight with inner sparks of gold. And her sculptured cheekbones and elegantly arched brows, proportioned with perfect symmetry.
    And her shapely hips, swaying like poetry in motion.
    Poetry? Hell, he needed a drink.
    Stepping down from the carriage, he stalked into his club's reading room and signaled the porter to