The man looked up from his desk. Several ledgers were spread before him. Apparently after a night at Sodom, he preferred to work. “Camden. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“We need to talk about Aurelia.”
Mackenzie leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Oh?”
“Stay away from her.”
“Now why would I do that? My intentions are honorable . . . and I happen to know that Lady Aurelia is in the market for a husband.”
Max stopped before the desk. “That husband won’t be you.”
“And you intend to marry her, is that it?” At Max’s expression, he chuckled. “Oh, you should see your face.”
“I’m not interested in marrying her.”
He scratched his jaw. “Then I fail to understand what you are doing here.”
“She’s the sister of my best friend . . .”
“Then why is Lord Merlton not here?”
“He doesn’t know—”
“I’d wager there are a good many things Lord Merlton doesn’t know about his sister . . . and you.”
The words hung in the air, threatening. Max did not mistake the implication.
“There are other eligible girls,” Max said. “Move on to one of them.”
Mackenzie sighed and cocked his head like he was contemplating the suggestion. “Ah, I’m going to say . . . no. I like Aurelia.”
You can’t have her.
“What do you want?” Max growled, his fists curling and uncurling. He would like nothing more than to feed his fist to the arrogant bastard’s mouth.
Mackenzie settled his considerable bulk more fully into his chair and considered Max at length. “Unless you have a marriageable daughter or sister with appeal equal to Lady Aurelia, you have nothing I need, Lord Camden.” He waved his arms wide, encompassing the opulence of his office. “I’m a wealthy man, as you can see. I need very little of a material nature.”
“You have a price,” Max proclaimed with certainty, his hands tightening at his sides.
Some of the mirth faded from Mackenzie’s eyes. “I don’t know if I should be offended, but let me be clear. There is only one thing I would like and that is a blue-blooded wife to secure my position in Society.”
“And you’ve chosen Aurelia to be that wife?” He wondered what the man would think if he knew his prospective bride was the same person drawing satirical caricatures of the ton and leaving them all over Town. There were wagers in betting books as to the identity of the mystery artist. Aurelia was a breath from ruin at any given moment. Would Mackenzie be quite so certain she was the perfect blue-blooded wife if he knew?
“I like her well enough. So far.”
Max’s skin prickled with the conviction that Mackenzie would have a change of heart if he knew of Aurelia’s hobby. “You’d be surprised . . . you don’t know everything there is to know about Lady Aurelia.”
Mackenzie lifted an arrogant brow. “Oh? Do tell.”
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. That would be one way to kill Mackenzie’s pursuit of Aurelia. Except he remembered her devastated expression when he tossed her scroll into the fire, and he knew that, for her, this would be far worse. She’d feel utterly betrayed if he revealed her secret. He couldn’t do it. Bloody hell. When had he started caring so much about her feelings?
Max didn’t agree with the risk that she was taking, but somewhere amid their arguing he finally understood. It was more than a hobby to her. It was a part of her and a calling, and as long as the world didn’t know she was behind the drawings she was utterly free to express herself with no fear of censure.
Except from me.
He had censured her, and suddenly he regretted that. He felt a little ill with the knowledge that he had destroyed something that was important to her.
He couldn’t reveal her secret to Mackenzie even if it meant saving her from the man.
“I’m just saying you don’t know each other very well.” He shrugged, attempting to defuse the implication that Aurelia had something to hide.
“I confess I’ve not made up my mind yet, but she is a tempting parcel. There is fire to her . . . as you undoubtedly know.” That eyebrow winged high again. “On that topic, how well do you know her, Camden?”
Max strode across the room and reached across the desk, grabbing Mackenzie by the edges of his jacket and yanking him halfway across the surface. “Have care how you speak of her. She is more than an tempting parcel. If you go near—”
The Scot laughed, seemingly unperturbed at being manhandled in his own home. Was there nothing that affected the bastard? He was cold, to be certain. “This is your brotherly concern, is it?” His eyes fastened on Max, hard as polished malachite. “She is but a lass. A tasty one, but I’ve not settled on her yet. As I’ve pointed out, I want position. If could buy a title, believe me, I would. It appears the closest I can get is marrying into a good family. The Earl of Merlton for a brother-in-law would be a nice prize.”
“You’ll not have Aurelia simply to lift your rank.” He flung Mackenzie back in his chair. “She’s worth more than that.”
She deserved more than that.
The idea came to him suddenly. Before he could fathom it or wonder at the origin of such a sentiment.
Mackenzie resettled his weight in his chair, smoothing a hand over the front of his jacket, and then corrected his mussed cravat. He did not reply for some time. He simply stared at Max as he traced the rim of the glass sitting on his desk with idle fingers. “I didna think you have any control over the matter. I’ve spoken with Aurelia and she would fit nicely into my plans. She has plans of her own, you see.”
“What do you know of her plans?” Max demanded, unaccountably angry with her for sharing anything of herself, including her thoughts, with this arrogant ass.
“She has no wish to rusticate in Scotland with her mother and doddering aunt. I know that much. I know she is amenable to the idea of marriage and not opposed to my courtship.”
She had shared all of that with him? His stomach cramped, imagining her in Mackenzie’s bed. Imaging this man’s hands on her, his mouth exploring her as he himself had only ever dreamed.
Hell no.
“It appears we are at a crossroads,” Mackenzie said. “I require a wife. Aurelia is amenable.” He lifted his glass. “May the best man win.”
“You don’t have her yet,” Max snarled.
Mackenzie shrugged. “You don’t want me to have her?” He rubbed his bottom lip before lifting his hand in a mild waving, gesture at Max. “Interesting. What shall we do about this situation?”
“I’m requesting that you leave her alone.” He inhaled sharply through his nose, disliking asking this man for anything, though he knew he had to try.
All at once Mackenzie didn’t appear so relaxed. He leaned forward, setting his drink down, his dark eyes alert as a hawk closing in on prey. “Are you asking me a favor, Lord Camden?”
Max swallowed against the bitter taste rising up in his throat and gave a hard nod. “Yes.”
“Now that’s an enticement, Viscount Camden indebted to me. I’m a man who values favors.”
“You want position. I can help you achieve that. I have the connections. Important friends.”
“That could be . . . useful. That might be the price I require.” Mackenzie nodded slowly. “Yes. You do.” He rose then and moved from around his desk, extending his hand to Max. “I accept your offer. You have my word, Camden. I’ll leave your Lady Aurelia alone. In exchange for a future favor.”
The words She’s not mine hovered on his lips, but he could not bring himself to say them. Not to this man. Not with the hot feeling of possession pumping through him.
He looked down at the Scot’s proffered hand as though it belonged to the devil himself. It certainly felt as though he w
ere entering into an unholy pact. And yet there was no alternative. “Agreed.”
After shaking Mackenzie’s hand, Max turned and moved to the door.
“Camden,” the Scotsman called out.
Max stopped and turned back to face the blackguard, arching an eyebrow.
“A word of advice?”
“What’s that?” he asked warily.
“There is one way to keep the chit out of trouble, you know.”
Max stared, waiting for him to elaborate.
“You could just marry her yourself.”
He stared at Mackenzie a long moment, those words sinking in before he turned and departed the house.
Chapter 16
Aurelia looked up as a footman led Max into the drawing room. She was careful to school her features into a mask of impassivity despite her surprise at his appearance. After their last encounter, she did not expect to see him for a good while.
Three days had passed since he hauled her from Sodom. Three days since he had kissed and rejected her. Three days since she decided once and for all to move forward with her life and stop doing whatever it was she was doing with Max. She’d told herself time and distance would be for the best. So truly there was no excuse for her heart to race faster at the sight of him.
His tall length ambled with a casual grace. He conveyed strength and checked power as he greeted her brother and Violet. He cut a fine figure in a dark jacket and buff-colored breeches. She looked away from his impressive physique and glanced to Buckston, sitting across from her. Buckston was still talking, moving his hands animatedly. He had not even noticed the new arrival. Her smile felt brittle as glass but she clung to it, desperate to give no reaction to the inclusion of Max into their dinner party. He’d been around all her life. Tonight should be no different from any other night.
Except it was. She never had to mingle among her family with him so close, with the knowledge of what his lips tasted like, a living, breathing memory.
She clenched her hands together in her lap and followed Buckston’s cue, laughing when he laughed even though she had no notion what he had said that he considered so amusing.
Even though she did not glance at Max again, all of her hummed with awareness, her body achingly alert. A marked change from moments ago. She had been fighting to stay awake during Buckston’s diatribe as he recounted his latest shopping spree and the new haberdashery that had just opened its doors. Buckston just might enjoy matters of clothing and fashion more than any woman of her acquaintance. He had won Mama over instantly when he complimented her puce turban and matching slippers. Gentlemen so rarely noticed a lady’s slippers.
Buckston reached out to stroke the sleeve of her gown. “I must say, Lady Aurelia, I’m a great admirer of jewel tones, and this emerald green is a lovely color on you.”
She glanced down at her gown. She was so rattled by Max’s presence she could not recall what she was wearing. The awareness of him was still there, a warm hum that flowed along her nerves. Without even looking, she imagined she felt his stare.
A quick glance across the room revealed he was in fact staring at her, his blue eyes dark as a night sky. He watched as Buckston lightly fingered her sleeve, his brows drawn tightly over his deep-set eyes.
Her brother and cousin conversed, oblivious that Max’s attention was focused with soul-burning intensity on her. Panic tickled low in her belly when she glanced around the room, catching Violet looking between them curiously. Blast. Her sister-in-law had noticed.
She snapped her gaze away. What was he doing looking at her like she had done something wrong? She had not seen fit to visit Sodom again, and she’d refrained from sabotaging any more of his liaisons. Assuming he had any.
That almost made her laugh. This was Max. It had been three days. He’d likely engaged in any number of liaisons.
The very idea that he continued his rakehell ways brought forth her own scowl. Brilliant. Now they were both scowling at each other in a roomful of people, displeasure radiating between them in palpable waves.
Blood rushed to her face, and she gave him a slight shake of her head, hopefully signifying that he should stop glowering at her. She forced her attention away. It was a sad state indeed when her body failed to grasp what her mind already had. She needed a husband, and Max was not that man.
She fixated on Buckston’s kindly, attentive face and enormous bobbing Adam’s apple. She skimmed his rail-thin form and tried to ignore the knotting in her stomach at the idea of Buckston touching her.
“Th-Thank you,” she murmured when she realized she had yet to respond to his compliment of her gown.
Even though she did not turn to look, she could see on her periphery that Max had joined Will and Dec at the far side of the room.
She tapped a single foot impatiently beneath her skirts. Tonight was to have been a small dinner party. Aside from Dec and Rosalie, Buckston was the only other person invited. At least that’s what she had thought when her mother asked her if she would like to include a suitor. She’d prepared herself for an intimate gathering. She’d had no time to brace herself for seeing Max again so soon. She had convinced herself she would be betrothed before she clapped eyes on him again, and once that happened, she would have forgotten all about Max. Because it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing.
She woke the morning after Sodom with fresh resolve swimming in her veins to welcome whatever suitors came to call. She promised herself that she would be agreeable. Charming even. Well, as charming as possible. She fully expected Struan Mackenzie to call on her, but as it turned out, Buckston was her only suitor to surface. Apparently, Struan Mackenzie had a change of heart after Sodom. It had been an easy enough matter to settle on Buckston when no one else had called on her. It was a jarring reminder that she was no great catch. Penniless with only good bloodlines to recommend her.
Aurelia knew she should have been disappointed, but there was only numbness. Struan or Buckston. It made little difference. She felt nothing for either one of them. In truth, the gangly Buckston was probably the far safer choice. He would expect little. Struan might demand too much from her. She shivered at the thought. He would see past her inane remarks and empty smiles. He would know she thought of another man whenever he touched her.
The thought of Max made her look again. She couldn’t help it. He stared back at her over the rim of his glass with eyes far too serious. She was accustomed to derisive laughter and cheeky smiles from him. Not this broody and intense Max. If she thought he was dangerous before, he was downright deadly to her senses now.
Her cheeks burned and she faced forward. Mama urged Buckston to play for them. Everyone else chimed in, clapping encouragingly. Buckston sank behind the pianoforte, flipping out his coattails. “Forgive my blunders,” he declared. “I’m no Chopin.” He then began to play with relish. He might not be Chopin but he played a near second.
She took advantage of the reprieve and moved to stand beside her mother. “Mama? What’s Camden doing here?”
Mama did not tear her gaze from Buckston at the pianoforte while saying, “Oh, I invited him, dear. It’s been a while since he last dined with us.” Then, as if a thought occurred to her, she cast a quick frown at Aurelia. “I do hope you won’t be a beast, dear. It won’t do at all to behave that way in front of Buckston.”
“Of course not, Mama,” she replied dutifully, sighing as Buckston slid into another song. As well as he played, the loud music beat at her temples. “If you’ll pardon me,” she murmured. Mama did not spare her a glance, her smiling gaze fixed on Buckston.
Aurelia slipped from the room without a backward glance. She quickly made her way down the corridor, leaving the sounds of the pianoforte behind. For a moment she debated taking refuge in her bedchamber, but Cecily was probably there.
Desperate for a moment’s solitude, she slipped inside her brother’s study.
Chapter 17
She sank down in an overstuffed armchair beside his desk and gazed unseeingly into the dying embers of the fireplace. Sighing, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, squeezing it between her fingers.
The sudden opening of the door followed by it clicking shut had her sitting upright in her chair, an explanation on her lips. She expected Mama to stand there, ready to chastise her for abandoning their guests . . . especially the favored Buckston. She had not bothered to hide her joy at Aurelia’s renewed interest in claiming a suitor.
But it was not her mother. Max stood there, his imposing figure framed against the door. The flickering shadows cast his face into sharp lines and hollows.
She shot to her feet, fisting the fabric of her skirts in both hands. They stared at one another for one long moment against the distant trill of the pianoforte.
“What are you doing in here?” she finally asked. “We shouldn’t be alone.” Although she knew no one in her family would think askance of the two of them alone in a room together. Mama, Will . . . neither would ever suspect either one of them would behave in a manner that would require supervision.
“What are you doing with that fop Buckston?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in the dark warm space.
“What does it look like?” She lifted her chin defensively. “I’m being properly courted.”
Why she emphasized the word proper, she had no idea. Perhaps because she and Max were only ever improper with each other and she wanted to fling that at him. She wanted him to know that there existed gentlemen who thought her deserving of courtship. Not a great many, but some.
“Properly courted by that fool dandy? You can’t possibly think the two of you will suit?”
And why did that question suddenly make her remember what it felt like to be caught up in Max’s arms? The hard sensation of his body against her? The way his lips devoured her mouth? There was more to compatibility than physical attraction.
She flushed hotly. “What concern is it of yours?” Her speech stalled as he started toward her, his strides long and predatory. She swallowed, then resumed speaking. “First you objected to Mr. Mackenzie . . .” She snorted. “You’ll be relieved to know that he has ceased to call on me.” Something in Max’s expression gave her pause. It was as though a veil dropped over his face. He also halted his advance.
All the Ways to Ruin a Rogue Page 15
