Every Rogue's Heart

by Dawn Brower

  He wiped his lips with a linen napkin and then tossed it onto his now-empty plate. “I must say, it makes me a jot jealous that I cannot compete with a daydream, for by that telltale blush on your cheeks, the man you wool-gathered about must have been impressive. Am I not an interesting companion?”

  Drat and double drat. Why did he have to read her so well, and what the deuce happened to her carefully cultivated mask of coolness that kept her safe from flirtations? “You are. It is just that my mind wandered and I…” She trailed to an awkward halt. Well, I cannot very well tell him I was imagining him naked, can I? Stuff and nonsense, that. He and she were no longer together. She had no right to think about him, sans clothing or otherwise.

  “I hope the daydream was worthwhile.” One of his eyebrows arched with a hint of suggestion, which once more recalled her to his scandalous conversation that afternoon. “Perhaps such a thing might come true.”

  She glanced sharply at him with held breath. Of course there was no way he could possibly know what she thought about. He was not a mystic, nor did he possess magical abilities. Unless his skill with chocolate and confections counted. That brought her thoughts back around to the business of using the melted sweet during intimacy, and once more her cheeks fired. “I rather doubt it will.” It couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. There could be no hanky panky as he called it, for that would urge his gentlemanly soul to make an offer for her. Despite his confession to the brief affair in Paris, Jasper wasn’t a rogue. Regardless of his recent forays into passionate talk or scandalous whispers, he was the proper sort of man she had an abject fear of. And marriage based on being compromised, even if the woman supported such an act, was something she needed to avoid as if her life depended upon it.

  Freedom was more valuable than romance.

  Evangeline sighed and did the unthinkable, something her mother would chastise her about or utter a shocked gasp. She plopped an elbow on the tabletop and rested her chin her hand. Why was life so complicated?

  The sound of his softly cleared throat yanked her back to the moment. “If your mind is conflicted, perhaps talking about what is bothering you will help you through it.”

  Admit to him that she’d conducted lascivious thoughts about him? Not bloody likely. “It is of no consequence.” She waved her free hand, napkin and all. “Forgive me. Perhaps it’s the rain that’s discomfiting me.”

  “Perhaps.” His silver-gray eyes twinkled as if something had amused him. That tiny bit of mirth pulled her in, and she would happily drown if only she would release her control. “In an effort to change the subject?” When she nodded, he continued, “I’ve been meaning to ask you since you landed in my care last night, but what is in the trunk? Since I haven’t brought it upstairs yet and you haven’t asked for it, can I assume the contents are not important to your day to day living?”

  And yet, this new conversation was no less uncomfortable. She straightened her posture, and throwing her napkin onto the table, she nodded. “Uh, there is a spare gown inside.”

  The grin that curved his lips had the breath stalling in her throat. Had he always been so charming? “Is that all? Somehow I do not think a gown and perhaps matching slippers would take up so much space or be as valuable as you claimed upon arrival.”

  She ignored a new wash of heat that slapped her cheeks. Why must he bring out such confusion in her? “There are other things in the trunk.”

  “Such as?” He rubbed his chin while he regarded her with speculation.

  Had he always been so inquisitive? Evangeline worried her bottom lip with her teeth. What was the harm in revealing all? She’d already told him of her occupation. This additional information wouldn’t matter. “Since you must know, the trunk contains my samples. Pieces that are current. I show my clients the corsets, petticoats, combinations. The trunk travels with me wherever I go.”

  “Is that so?” A gleam jumped into his eyes, and she didn’t trust it. “Then, by all means, we must retrieve that trunk.” He launched to his feet and then held out a hand to her. “Will you accompany me?”

  “I don’t see why it is necessary to bring up the trunk.” Yet she slipped her fingers into his palm. Warmth ebbed up her arm from the point of contact, and as he pulled her into a standing position, she stifled a sigh. She had missed the niceties being with a gentleman afforded a lady. When he didn’t release her hand, her mind jogged to earlier in the afternoon when he’d caressed her palm. Renewed shivers skated over her skin and made her extremely aware of him as a man.

  “I’m suddenly gripped with a desire to see the contents of that trunk, my dear.” He tugged her toward the dining room door. “For what else shall we do this evening?”

  The knowledge that Evangeline kept a trunk full of underclothes shouldn’t have aroused him as much as it did. Jasper couldn’t explain why. He only knew that he needed to have a glimpse at those unmentionables.

  Then he slowed in his intent to pull her through his townhouse, for her hand tucked into his was as enthralling as the prospect of having a look at a corset. She willingly let him touch her, hold her—albeit her hand. He glanced at their entwined fingers and moved his gaze upward until it encountered hers. This was how they should move through life: hand in hand. Heat climbed the back of his neck. What happened if this seduction didn’t bring the results he desired?

  I shall puzzle that out when the proper time comes.

  “Having second thoughts, Jasper?” The question, low-pitched and amused, brought him back to the task before him.

  Did she mean now or his plan to entice her into an engagement? He shook his head. Of course she meant now. She couldn’t read thoughts. Releasing her hand, he tugged on his suddenly too-tight collar. “Second thoughts? Not even close.” He proceeded to the stairwell and plunged down the first flight. “I have an extremely clear mental image of what I want to accomplish,” he continued over his shoulder. “And very little time in which to put my plans into motion.”

  The firm tap-tap of her heels on the wooden stairs behind him confirmed she followed. “What plans would those be?”

  Jasper managed to elude her question until they reached the door that separated his living quarters from the shop space. “Let us say it’s rather vague at this point.” He unlocked and then pulled open the door, which gave way with a slight creak of the hinges. “But I am unapologetically optimistic.”

  “You always were that.” She trailed him into the shop. The trunk waited in the shadows, in the same spot that it had since he’d rescued her from the empty train platform. “It was one of the things I admired about you, that optimism. Inspiring, really.”

  “Do you not still admire that about me?” His quiet question echoed loud in the silent shop. As she pondered the inquiry, he scuttled around to the other side of the trunk.

  “I do,” she agreed with equally whispered tones. “The ability to see the positive in any situation despite the setbacks is wonderful.” A frown turned down the corners of her mouth, and he was seized by the urge to kiss away whatever thoughts caused it. “I have never been able to live life quite like that. Instead, I let the negative things that impact me fester about my mind until I cannot look past that cloud.”

  “It is a trick you should actively train your brain to reverse.”

  “Somehow, I suspect one needs a friend around them when one begins such a practice.” A wistful note crept into her voice and her eyes went soft with faraway memories.

  “I could be that friend, Evie.”

  Her lips quivered and then she glanced away, hiding her expression. “Perhaps if we did not already share a history, for there is nothing left between us except memories.”

  Such gammon that was. She lied to herself and to him, but he didn’t correct her erroneous statement. He leaned down and grabbed the handle of the trunk. “At the present time, I require your assistance with this.” If at all possible, he’d be the man who would help her find the sunny side of every situation. “Everything else we can—will—discuss a
t a later time.” As long as the rain continued to fall.

  He’d never hoped so hard for a continuation of the dreary, wet London weather more than he did in this moment, for it was the one thing keeping her with him.

  “I do not know what there is to talk about.” When he still didn’t answer but merely stared at the trunk, she sighed. “Very well.” She took up the other handle and then she frowned again. “Do you mean that I should go backward up the stairs?”

  “If that is what you wish.” He smirked. “No doubt that feat would be challenging for a lady in skirts though.”

  Evangeline narrowed her eyes. “If you can do it, so can I.” Quickly, she released the trunk handle in favor of gathering the front hem of her skirts. She tucked it into her belt, which put her stocking-clad legs on full display from the knee downward. Without so much as a sound, she did the same for the back skirting. Once done, she gripped the trunk’s handle and tugged, her eyebrows raised in question. “Shall we?”

  “Absolutely.” He grinned like a schoolboy having his first peek of a female’s limbs. But in his defense, she really did have trim, attractive ankles. And supple calves he could think of nothing else better to do than slide his fingertips along. He swallowed hard as they tackled the stairs with the trunk between them. Her knees were adorable and practically begged him to press a kiss onto each one, or ease them apart in the search of infinitely more scandalous body parts.

  Oh God. Too much more of those thoughts and he’d be lost without hope of returning.

  “Are you quite all right? It appears you are experiencing breathing troubles,” she questioned, a hefty dose of amusement in her voice.

  Jasper cleared his throat. “Fine. Never better, actually.” Would the stairs never end? Finally, they entered his apartments. “Shall we leave the trunk in the entryway?”

  “No.” Her smile hinted of teasing. “I simply must have it upstairs, for I plan to utilize the gown on the morrow once I depart, should the precipitation cease.”

  That grin sent heat sailing into places it had no business going for the moment. He tamped down his reaction. “Of course.” Buggar it. If there was a God in heaven, the rain wouldn’t stop and Evangeline wouldn’t go anywhere. After they’d spent more time together talking and perhaps indulging in a kiss or two, she’d discover her natural place was by his side. The woman merely needed to set aside her inhibitions, cease building the wall around her heart that kept people out and her protected from fear, and let herself think of what might go in her favor while looking at the future instead of what she assumed would go wrong. Then, and only then could they both move forward. Together. “Onward, then.”

  The next flight of stairs was accomplished without incident, and once they’d placed the trunk inside the bedroom, Jasper stood upright with a hand to the small of his back.

  “Regarding your business…”

  “Yes?” She eyed him with suspicion as she freed her hems from her belt.

  Cold disappointment crashed through him when the sweep of her skirts covered those delectable lower appendages. He shoved it away. Soon he would entice her into his arms, but he just needed to convince her, perhaps challenge her into moving out on that limb, show her that by clinging to her reservations, she was being as traditional as her mother. “Do you put on the corsets you intend for you clients to buy?”

  Perhaps that was the gimmick her sales desperately needed.

  “Are you daft?” She gawked at him with her kissable lips slightly parted, her hands propped on her lush, rounded hips. “What sort of woman do you take me for?” Shocked outrage rang in her question.

  “The sort of woman who is willing to take chances. Chances that will make her dreams become reality.” He couldn’t help his grin. Her astonishment amused him and he laughed. It was so easy around Evangeline to find that lightness of spirit he’d missed these past several years. “Besides, you should. How else can your future clients see the exact fit of these garments unless you use yourself as a model?” Slowly, he moved his gaze up and down her body. Another wave of heat slid through him. “You have the perfect figure for it.” Before he could do something stupid, like wrap his arms around her or explore those enticing curves with his fingers, he clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Oh, do stop, Jasper.” She waved away his compliment while pink bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t have that kind of courage.”

  “I can assist with building it.” He propped a foot on the trunk and then leaned forward with an arm on his knee. “You could practice modeling the clothes for me.” Making a great show of glancing around the area, he moved away from the trunk and spread his arms wide. “There is no one here.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Except you. A male. And one with whom I share a history.”

  “Don’t think of it like that.” Yes, this was just the thing to break her out of her self-imposed prison where emotions couldn’t reach her heart.

  He nodded in the event she didn’t understand. “You trust me, don’t you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you have deviltry in mind.”

  “I am offended you could believe that of me.” He assumed an expression of shock and pressed a hand to his heart with an injured air. “After all, didn’t you say I was…” He lifted his eyes to consult the ceiling, pretending to think. “…traditional, too proper and somewhat boring?” When he looked her way, he held his glee in check as her embarrassment deepened. “What harm or scandal could I possibly do?”

  “I’m not certain this is a good idea.” She glanced at the trunk and then at him. “Such things are rather personal.”

  No, not a good idea, but an ingenious one. “We were once friends, were we not?”

  “Yes, I suppose.” She drew out the words. “Close friends, friends who almost…” Her words broke off, and he frowned. Was that a sob she tamped down?

  “Indeed.” He would wager a quarter of his yearly salary that she still cared for him. “I am willing to help you in this endeavor. For the sake of your business, of course,” he added in a rush.

  “Somehow, I find it difficult to believe you are true of heart in this matter.”

  “Clever girl to be wary.” Evangeline would probably give him a tongue lashing and a right proper dressing down once she discovered his ultimate intent, but he hoped the eventual outcome of his gambit would temper her reaction. “If you can model those underclothes in front of me, explain to a male how superior they are above manufactured items, then there is nothing you cannot accomplish in front of prospective, female clients bent on cattiness.”

  Silence brewed between them for long moments, broken only by the howl of the wind and the lash of the rain against the windows.

  To drive home the point, he added, “Where’s the woman who hiked up her skirts to help haul this trunk up here? You certainly had no qualms about uncovering your ankles and knees in front of me. There is no difference with my request.”

  Finally, she sighed. “Now I know why you are so successful with your confectionary business.”

  “Why?”

  “If you can convince a woman to strip down to her underclothes and then parade about in front of you explaining why they’re worthy, selling a customer a box of chocolate bonbons must be child’s play.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks.

  Jasper couldn’t help his grin. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

  She nodded but her eyes twinkled, more blue than green now. “But you must swear on your life you won’t tell a soul. I do have a reputation to think of.”

  “Upon my honor, I will never speak of what occurs here tonight.” He gave her a bow from the waist, and when he straightened, he smiled, feeling much like the Cheshire cat from that much-loved novel. “Shall I assist you with hooks and buttons?”

  Her eyes widened. Emotion lit those jeweled depths, so fleeting he couldn’t read it, but she shook her head. “The gown is one I can manipulate on my own, as is one of the corsets I intend to show, so chivalry won’t be needed.” />
  The statement was true enough. There was nothing close to chivalry on his mind just now as excitement played his spine. “Very well. I shall go downstairs and make tea to give you the privacy you’ll require for changing.”

  As if the conversation’s outcome didn’t matter, he headed down the staircase, not caring if he made the tea. It was merely an excuse, and to let her come to terms with the choice she’d made. He was either the biggest idiot London had ever seen or would be lauded—in his private circle of friends if he should choose to share the details—as a genius when it came to romance.

  At the moment, that opinion could swing either way.

  Chapter 7

  What have I done?

  Well, more to the point, what was she about to do? Evangeline stared down the dimly lit staircase where Jasper had vanished. Anxiety twisted her insides. It was one thing to have exposed ankles and knees to him, but quite another to shed her clothes down to the very underpinnings she attempted to peddle in the hopes of maintaining her independence.

  And in front of the man she ran away from five years ago, no less.

  “Oh, this worrying is pointless,” she muttered, and opening the trunk, she pawed through the lace, satin and fine cotton until she came to the corset she wanted. “It is Jasper, after all.” They were friends, and he wasn’t a rogue. He wouldn’t molest her and then send her on her way with a ruined reputation.

  With corset in hand, she scurried into his bedroom and shut the door behind her. Yet, there was a change about him. No longer was he the proper gentleman she remembered. In that man’s place was Jasper Winslow, the man with a sense of humor and an air of wicked indulgence. She shivered as she began the task of removing her skirt and shirtwaist. Where she used to know exactly what the man five years ago would do, she was in the dark about what this Jasper might attempt.

  Yet she’d consented to appear before him clad in her corset and underclothes.

  Her hands shook. Her chest tightened with nerves. The corset she wore fell to her nimble fingers, as did her two petticoats, her half-boots, her stockings and the bustle cage. A shiver coursed down her spine, whether from the chill in the air or what she was about to do, she couldn’t say.