Touch of Rogue by Mia Marlowe Read Free Book Online

“We’ll take it turn and turn about. You may call me Jacob. Or Au—well, Jacob will do for now.”
    “I’ll do no such thing.” His buttocks were as tight and firm as his thighs, Julianne noted despite herself. His long legs were lightly dusted with the same chestnut hair as his head.
    He toweled himself off, sleeking his hair back like seal’s fur. Then he grinned at her. “You will call me Jacob if you want to know what I discovered about your dagger last night.”
    Her fingers curled into impotent fists. The man made her want to hit something. Mostly, his cocksure face. “What did you learn?”
    His brows arched, clearly waiting.
    The name curdled on her tongue till she spat it out. “Jacob.”
    “There. Was that so hard?” He still was. His cock pointed toward her merrily. “You know, Fenwick’s a thoroughly capable chap, but it’s much more satisfying to wake to a pretty face like yours. Makes a man glad to be a man.”
    “Yes, well ...” There was certainly no questioning his masculinity. She looked away, aware he’d caught her gawking at his male attributes. “Perhaps you’d do me the decency of covering yourself.”
    “Haven’t seen one angry in a while, eh?” he said as he ambled toward the bed and pulled off a sheet to wrap around his waist. “But if we want to be sticklers for decency, Julie, may I point out that you’re the one who burst into my bedchamber? And I distinctly remember you promising that you’re not easily shocked.”
    “I meant about whatever we might discover in the course of our investigation,” she reminded him, trying not to react to the diminutive “Julie.” She refused to give him the satisfaction.
    “Does that make this a social call then?” He cocked a brow at her. “I like the sound of that.”
    “You’re insufferable.” The sheet slid down on his hips, revealing a thin strip of dark hair starting at his navel that widened as it disappeared into the bulge beneath the linen at his groin.
    “Yes, I am, aren’t I? Too bad you need my services, but there it is and no help for it. Ah! Here’s Fenwick with your tea and, if there’s a God in heaven, my shave.” He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “A nice close shave makes a man utterly civilized.”
    Julianne perched on a small chair near the window while Fenwick poured out a steaming cup for her. “In your case, I suspect it would take a good deal more than a shave.”
    “Now, now,” Jacob said. “Is that how friends speak to each other?”
    “We are not friends.”
    “Yet,” he said with cheer as Fenwick draped a silk banyan over his broad shoulders. Jacob dropped the sheet and inadvertently gave Julianne a final look at his private parts, quiescent now, but still of formidable size, before he knotted the sash at his waist. Then he settled into the only other chair in the room while Fenwick stropped the straight razor.
    “What did you learn about the dagger?” When he didn’t answer immediately, she added, “Jacob.”
    He flashed a quick smile. Then he assumed the tortured expression men adopt to flatten the angles of their face for a shave while Fenwick lathered his cheeks with foam.
    “For one thing, I can offer you the comfort that I’m certain your husband didn’t take his own life.”
    She blinked in surprise. “How were you able to prove that so quickly?”
    “I didn’t say I could prove it. Simply that I know it. He was murdered. Without question. We’ll get to the issue of how and by whom later.”
    While it was gratifying to find another soul who agreed with her about Algernon’s death, evidence that he hadn’t killed himself would have been much better. “I assume we’ll need to go to Cornwall for that, so you can examine his study.”
    “I already know what happened in his study.”
    “How do you—”
    “That’s none of your concern,” he said briskly. “What I don’t know is the precise mechanism of how the deed was done and at whose behest, but you’re right.