Never Trust a Rogue

by Olivia Drake

  Striding into the library, he headed toward the connecting door. A fine Aubusson rug muffled his footfalls. This room brought to mind the memory of discovering Lindsey here, garbed as a maidservant and scrubbing the wood floor.

  He wasn’t sorry for using the incident to coerce her into the promise of a betrothal. Her actions had been reckless, her mission to steal the IOU foolish. It was highly unlikely that securing proof of Wrayford’s debt would deter Mrs. Edith Crompton from the ambition to see her daughter marry the heir to a dukedom. Society swarmed with ruthless mothers intent on matchmaking. And Lindsey was too naïve to know how to stop Wrayford from taking advantage of her.

  Once the blackguard had secured her hand—and her fortune—in marriage, he could set the stage for murder. A convenient fall down the stairs, a dose of arsenic in her food, and her immense dowry would belong to Wrayford with no strings attached.

  Thane clenched his jaw. Never would he allow such a crime to transpire—even if it meant having to wed her himself. Lindsey Crompton might be clever, but she was a babe in the woods when it came to dealing with scoundrels like Wrayford. She could have no notion that the man might very well be the Serpentine Strangler.

  Or even that the scapegrace led a secret life that would put any decent lady to the blush.

  Reaching the connecting door, Thane turned the knob. There was no need to knock, since Jocelyn spent her days upstairs in a cozy sitting room. She seldom had visitors, which meant only he and the servants frequented the ground floor.

  He pushed open the door and stepped into a library that was similar to his own. The main difference was the contents of the shelves. While he owned an extensive collection of legal treatises, weighty biographies, and volumes on battlefield history, for Jocelyn he’d provided an array of educational and inspirational books more suited to a young lady, along with a few novels, including those by the Prince Regent’s favorite, Jane Austen. Any book Jocelyn desired could be fetched by Fisk or one of the other servants.

  The room was dim and quiet, the chairs empty, and the hearth cold. A pair of large oak tables provided places to sit and write in comfort. But almost immediately Thane sensed he wasn’t alone.

  He had taken only two steps when his peripheral vision caught sight of someone standing to the left of him. Turning sharply, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  Miss Lindsey Crompton was perusing the shelves.

  Or at least she was pretending to do so. Her head was tilted slightly so she could observe him from the corner of her eye. An upsweep of dark chestnut curls revealed the swanlike curve of her neck. Slim and feminine, she wore a pale blue gown with a scoop neckline that revealed a tantalizing hint of her charms.

  His gaze lingered a moment on those mounds of creamy flesh. He had to tamp down a surge of lust and force his eyes back to hers.

  “Well, well. This is quite the surprise.”

  “Oh! Good morning, my lord. I do hope you don’t mind my coming to visit Jocelyn without first asking your permission. I was just now seeking a book to read to her.” She plucked a volume at random from the shelf and riffled the pages. “This one looks interesting.”

  She was talking too fast and her manner had a skittishness that stirred his suspicion. “I didn’t see your carriage out front,” he said.

  “I walked here in the company of my sister and my maid Kasi. It’s a lovely day for a stroll, sunny yet brisk and cool.”

  Thane took a step closer. The light allure of her perfume distracted him, but only for a moment. Her presence so near the connecting door was too convenient to be mere coincidence.

  He took the book out of her hand and scanned the cover. “This is a geography text. It’s for Jocelyn’s schooling, not for pleasure reading.”

  Those blue eyes rounded. “I was hoping to show her where I grew up in India. And I thought she might like to point out to me where she’s lived, since she and her mother followed the drum.”

  While talking, Lindsey lowered her lashes slightly. That siren aura of mystery didn’t fool him—at least not for longer than one overheated moment of fantasy in which he envisioned their naked bodies entwined in wild passion.

  He replaced the book on the shelf. “Enough with the fibs. You were planning to sneak into my house again, weren’t you? Don’t deny it. You still want that blasted IOU.”

  She elevated her chin. “Believe what you will, my lord. It matters naught to me.”

  Thane was accustomed to women flirting with him, paying him deference, or at the very least treating him with the proper respect due his rank. He had never before met a lady who cared so little for his regard.

  Nor one he so dearly wanted to tame.

  Half-irritated and half-amused, he closed the gap between them, crowding her against the bookshelf. He braced his arms on either side of her so that she was trapped in place. “I see you’ve learned little from that time when I caught you snooping in my house. You’re still as audacious as ever.”

  Her breath caught in a little gasp that was pure enticement, although he was sure she didn’t mean it that way. Lifting her hands, she pushed against his encircling arms. “And you’re still as overbearing. Now kindly keep your distance.”

  With any other female, Thane would have heeded her wishes and stepped away. But Lindsey Crompton impaired his ability to think rationally. He was too enamored by the feel of her womanly form brushing against him.

  He bent his head closer, the better to breathe in the intoxicating scent of her skin. “I must warn you to cease your wriggling,” he murmured. “With the wrong man, such careless behavior could result in retribution.”

  She regarded him challengingly from beneath the screen of her dark lashes. “Oh? I would have called you the wrong man—”

  “Precisely.”

  His mouth stopped her tartness with a kiss. Before she could recover from that strategic move, he pulled her flush against him. She uttered a muffled protest as he caught hold of her rounded bottom to keep her from squirming free. Then he mustered all of his seduction skills to woo her.

  The softness of her lips belied the rigidity of her body, but gradually the resistance ebbed from her. To his great satisfaction, she slid her arms around his neck, lifted herself on tiptoe, and returned his kiss with fervor.

  God help him. He had bedded a lot of women in his time, he had experienced all manner of sensual moves, but nothing stirred him as much as Lindsey Crompton’s fingers in his hair, her slim body pressing against his. She was such a mix of contradictions, both cold and hot, with a feisty manner that boded ill for any man who treasured peace in his life.

  Not that he cared much for tranquility at the moment. He hungered for a bout of hard, wild, animal rutting. With Lindsey. Only Lindsey.

  It was the last coherent thought he had for a time, as Thane lost himself in tasting her, in learning every inch of her shapely figure, at least as much as her gown would allow. The kiss went on and on, but it was no longer enough; it was a mere sample of the banquet that he craved. His mouth traveled down the fragrant curve of her throat and thence to her bosom. Cursing the barrier of fabric that guarded her silky skin, he walked his fingers along her low-cut neckline and then dipped inside to explore the uncharted territory of her breasts.

  A small moan of enjoyment eddied from her. She tilted her head back against the bookcase, resting her hands on his shoulders in a move that was unbearably erotic. With her eyes closed and her lips parted, she looked like a goddess offering him his most carnal desire. Drunk on her wine, he moved his mouth along the edge of her bodice to lap her sweetness. All the while, he worked his finger inside her tight corset until he could stroke the nub of her breast. The action elicited a whimper from her that drove him wild.

  “Beautiful,” he muttered, “you are so very beautiful.” He wanted Lindsey naked in bed, her legs parted to receive him. Compelled by the dark delirium of passion, he walked her backward to the nearest table and levered her down beneath him.

  Gasping, she attempted to
roll away. “Stop! You cannot . . . oh!”

  He distracted her by continuing his erotic play with her breasts. “Shh. We’re promised to each other.”

  She shook her head. “No . . . we aren’t . . . this is wrong.”

  The fevered yearning in her eyes told a different story. She found as much pleasure in this romp as he did. “Nothing could be more right. Let me make you happy, Lindsey. Trust me, darling.”

  He subjected her to another deep, drowning kiss. Driven by reckless need, his fingers shifted to the hem of her skirt to delve beneath it. He shaped his hand around her slim calf, sliding upward over silken warmth until he found the garters that held her stocking in place. Thane didn’t stop there; he was too focused on his quest, too keen on discovering—

  A sharp jab to his gut jolted him back to reality. “Ouch—blast it!”

  Self-preservation overruled the command of his loins. Thane jumped up, grabbing for the back of a chair to steady himself. He stood there, breathing hard, unable to comprehend anything but the sight of Lindsey half-lying on the table with her lips reddened and her skirts in disarray.

  Then he noticed the metallic glint in her hand. A silver letter opener.

  He instantly regained his mental acumen. Lindsey had attacked him with that puny weapon. She must have grabbed it from the table. While they were in the middle of their passionate kiss.

  Scowling, he rubbed the sore spot in his belly. There was no blood; she’d only bruised him. Too bad for her, his coat was well made and the blade too dull. “What the devil—! Why did you stab me?”

  “I warned you to stop.” Lindsey slid to her feet, the letter opener gripped in her hand. “And if you dare to assault me again, I’ll use this where it hurts the most.”

  He had faced the enemy in battle without flinching. He had fought in hand-to-hand combat when his horse had been shot out from under him. Yet Lindsey’s threat made his manhood shrivel. He didn’t doubt she meant every word. The little termagant looked fierce enough to carve him into pieces.

  “Assault? You enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.”

  She shook her head fiercely. “You’re mistaken.”

  Her blush gave her away, he noted. How swiftly he had forgotten she was a maiden who had little experience with passion.

  Thane fought to get his emotions under control. The galling truth was, she’d had every right to attack him. He had been ready to mount her here in the library where anyone might have walked in on them. Never in his life had he treated a lady so shabbily, especially one he had sworn to protect from bounders and blackguards.

  Bloody hell. He had never been threatened in the midst of a seduction before, either. Usually his women begged him for more.

  Frustrated by unslaked desire, he stepped away from her. “Pray forgive me. You may put that ridiculous weapon down. I’ve no intention of causing you harm. Come, I’ll escort you back upstairs.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” she said stiffly, sidestepping his reach and edging toward the door, her fingers still gripping the letter opener. “I can find my own way.”

  Thane prowled after her. He harbored as much mistrust of her as she exhibited toward him. Good God, she was the one who’d intended to go snooping in his house—again.

  “Nevertheless, I’ll accompany you,” he said. “I need a word with Jocelyn.”

  Lindsey came to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the library. “No.”

  “No?”

  “She and Blythe are having a pleasant chat. You did want your ward to have friends her own age, did you not? It’s best to leave them alone together.”

  Once again, he had a suspicion that Lindsey was hiding something. “A brief interruption will hardly destroy their friendship. What I have to say won’t take but a few moments.”

  He brushed past Lindsey and headed for the stairs. The patter of her footsteps trailed behind him. “What do you mean to tell her?” she asked, her voice echoing in the marble corridor. “Perhaps I can convey the message.”

  Something was up; he could sense her nervousness. She didn’t want him to visit Jocelyn . . . but why the hell not? “It’s a matter I’d like to broach to her myself, so I can gauge her reaction.”

  “I don’t understand. Is it a secret?”

  “It won’t be soon.”

  He started up the stairs, ignoring the polished oak balustrade and taking the risers two at a time. There was really nothing covert in what he wanted to ask Jocelyn, yet he was curious to discover what had Lindsey in such a lather.

  Upstairs, he strolled down the corridor and gave her a chance to catch up. He glanced back to see her half-running with her skirts hiked just enough for him to catch a glimpse of trim calf. The memory of that silken warmth likely would torture him in the nights to come.

  He arrived at the sitting room to find the door closed. Odd that, for it was usually open. He was reaching for the knob when Lindsey thrust herself in between him and the door. To his annoyance, she still clasped the letter opener.

  “Must you walk so fast, my lord?” she complained loudly. “It isn’t very well mannered of you to leave me lagging behind.”

  Damn, she looked gorgeous with her cheeks flushed and a few chestnut curls dangling loose from her usually prim hairdo. “Call me Thane,” he murmured. “After what we just shared there’s no need for formality between us.”

  Her blue eyes flashed beneath the dark wings of her brows. “I hardly think that’s appropriate. And as I told you, there’s no need to disturb Jocelyn and Blythe. I’m sure you have much more important things to do than talk to a pair of juvenile girls.”

  Lindsey had raised her voice. It occurred to him that she was sending a warning to Jocelyn and Blythe inside the sitting room. Why? So they’d have time to cease whatever they were doing?

  He’d had enough of these games.

  Thane reached past her and turned the knob. Pushing open the door, he leaned close and whispered, “By the by, you may wish to fix your hair. It’s in a bit of a muss from our kiss.”

  In the time-honored manner of all women, she lifted her hands to survey the damage. As she did, he deftly snatched the letter opener away and stepped into the sitting room.

  Late-morning light poured in from the tall windows that overlooked the rear garden. To his surprise, there were four females present, not just two. Jocelyn reclined on the chaise with the other three surrounding her. She looked perfectly normal, sitting up with the usual white coverlet over her legs.

  The girl standing at the head of the chaise had to be Blythe. She gave him a rather saucy smile, her auburn curls tied back with a blue ribbon that matched her dress. At the foot of the chaise hovered Mrs. Fisk. Other than a swift look at him, she kept her gaze downcast.

  A plump foreigner in an embroidered purple wrap stood right beside Jocelyn. What had Lindsey called her Hindu maid? Kasi, he remembered.

  Jocelyn glanced up at Blythe, who very slightly shrugged her shoulders. Thane had the clear impression he was missing something. Something vital.

  He walked closer. “What’s going on here?”

  “Hullo, m’lord,” Jocelyn said. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning. Why do you have a letter opener?”

  Thane hadn’t realized he was still holding it. Placing it on the nearest table, he said, “Never mind that. Now, answer my question. What have you been doing?”

  Lindsey appeared at his side. “Nothing, as well you can see. They were simply chatting. It’s about time Jocelyn had visitors to keep her entertained.”

  “Are you Lord Mansfield?” Blythe chirped, stepping forward to dip a curtsy in front of him. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’m Lindsey’s sister Blythe.”

  He gave her a nod. As much as he planned to win over Lindsey’s family, he knew a distraction technique when he saw one.

  Proceeding straight to the chaise, he noticed that Kasi was holding Jocelyn’s hand, palm up. He aimed a stern look at his ward. “You’re involved in some sort of mischief. I comman
d that you speak the truth at once.”

  “Oh dear, you’ve caught me,” Jocelyn admitted sheepishly. “Kasi was reading my palm. I asked her to tell my fortune, so please don’t be angry with her.”

  “Reading your palm.”

  Jocelyn’s green eyes sparkled. “Yes, and I must say it was most enlightening. Kasi said I’m destined to have a very exciting life filled with lots and lots of adventures.”

  The hard core of suspicion in him melted into something softer. It had been forever since he’d seen Jocelyn so animated. Not since before the death of her parents. She had always been an ethereal fairy child who delighted in simple joys, watching the flight of a butterfly or tumbling in the grass with a puppy.

  That carefree girl was crippled now, denied a normal life, and it would be cruel to allow her to be misled by a fortune-teller. Yet he lacked the heart to discourage Jocelyn. Was it really so wrong for her to dream about exciting adventures?

  Warm fingers closed around his wrist. He blinked down at Kasi, who was placing his hand, palm up, in hers. In a singsong voice, she said, “I read your fate, sahib.”

  He tried to pull free. “I’ve no use for such nonsense.”

  Kasi held firmly to his wrist. Her raisin-eyed stare had a curiously mesmerizing effect on him. “Be still, sahib. You must not run from your destiny.”

  Crouching close to his hand, she ran her stubby forefinger over the lines and whorls of his palm while muttering to herself.

  Thane found himself gazing down at the knob of graying black hair on the top of her head. Run? Did she think him some sort of coward? He was caught in a quandary. It seemed rude to make an issue of wresting his hand from this batty old woman, so why not humor her?

  Then he noticed that all eyes were upon him. Blythe and Jocelyn wore identical looks of expectation, Fisk was smiling fondly, and Lindsey stood watching with her arms crossed. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as if to bite back a smile, and the sight immersed him in the memory of kissing that lush mouth. He wanted to taste her again, and this time, he’d move more slowly and coax her. . . .

  Kasi’s melodic voice lured him out of the fantasy. “You live far away for many years,” she said, “but now you come home to stay. You leave England no more.”