Page 49 of A Relentless Rake
“Quite brave,” he explained with mocking solemnity. “After that punch incident at the ball, I never thought you’d attend an event based solely on the service of liquids.”
Blast the devil!Gritting her teeth, she made a futile grab for her bonnet, but he moved it just out of her reach. She groaned in frustration. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Because you’re a beautiful and intriguing woman.”
She blurted out a laugh. As if he expected her to fall for that!
“And because you know about your brother’s work.”
The laughter died on her lips.Thatexcuse she believed.
He asked quietly, picking up their last conversation where it had left off, “Have you found any evidence or copies of recent building plans?”
“I told you. He hasn’t done any commissions in almost two years.”
He stilled for a long moment, his hazel eyes narrowing on her as if trying to decide whether he could trust her. More—as if he were attempting to uncover all her secrets and learn the truth of who she truly was. She called on every bit of courage she possessed not to look away.
Thankfully, he let the moment pass and plucked one of the rosebuds near her shoulder. “Did Beth tell you the story about this bower?”
“A gift from Wellington in gratitude for your aunt’s support during the wars.” Embarrassment made her voice catch as she added, “Dragoons, bayonets, and…leather.”
“Knowing Auntie, more like ponies and chickens, and she most likely delivered them to the regiment on the Peninsula herself to make certain they arrived.” When her eyes widened in surprise, he explained, “We Sinclairs are a formidable lot.”
Undoubtedly. And yet… “Chickens?”
“Can’t fight the enemy on an empty stomach.”
“Oh.” She watched his fingers tease at the rosebud in his hands, and a shameful longing melted her insides. He couldn’t be trusted, she knew that. Yet what would it feel like to have those hands on her, those fingers teasing at her body the same way they were playing with the rosebud? “And the ponies?”
“In case they ran out of chickens.”
“Oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth in disgust.
He chuckled at her reaction, the sound soft and deep in the stillness of the bower around them. It contrasted in masculine depths against the light, delicate flowers and the distant notes of the harp wafting through the garden. When his lips curled into a half smile, the longing inside her turned molten.
The man might be a devil, yet he was a temptingly attractive one.
“Compared to that explanation,” she murmured through her fingers, “I think I prefer bayonets and leather.”
“Me, too,” he drawled rakishly.
A flush raced up from the back of her neck and into her cheeks. “That isnotwhat I meant—”
“I know.” He blew out a regretful breath. “There’s not a wicked bone in your body, is there?”
Olivia pressed her lips together, irritation instantly replacing the longing inside her. His last visit to her room had not ended well, and this meeting was faring no better. It was best to simply leave.
“I have no intention of remaining here to be insulted.” She grabbed for her bonnet. “Good afternoon, my—”
His hand folded gently around her wrist and stopped her.
She stilled beneath his soft touch, except for the tattoo of her thudding pulse. Could he feel its pounding beneath his fingertips?
“Apparently, I’m no good at speaking with you unless I’m behind a mask.” Genuine contrition laced his voice. “My apologies.”
Olivia sank back down onto the bench, stunned. The Earl of St James…apologized?
She simply couldn’t fathom this man. Whowashe at heart? The gentleman who sent her a gown so she could attend a ball, or the rogue who took advantage of the punch spill to manipulate her into being alone with him? The masked man who chased after her through the dark London streets, or the soldier who gave her a lesson on fighting? The brother and son who would do anything for his family, or the blackguard whose rumored reputation left women trembling?
