Page 36 of The Rogue’s Offer

Chapter 9

Ophelia watched from the carriage window as the driver knocked on the front door Mathias had passed through. The driver had indicated that with the door open she would be able to enter the house quickly, thus diminishing the possibility of her being seen. The door opened and Ophelia watched him exchange a few words with the servant who’d been inside. With a nod, the driver hurried back down the steps and opened the carriage door.

“Anytime someone is visiting the house, my lady, a carriage is waiting in the mews,” the man said as he extended his hand to her. “Just ask anyone to point you to the back door.”

“Thank you,” she murmured as the man helped her out of the vehicle and quickly guided her up the steps to the door. As the door closed behind her, Ophelia’s heartbeat began to race.

The man who answered the door silently offered to take her shawl. As she handed it to him, she glanced around the small foyer. It was clearly meant for discreet, intimate encounters.

“Where is Mr. Gilchrist?”

“He’s in his bed chambers, my lady. Would you like me—”

“No. I wish to surprise him,” she said with a shake of her head. “If you’ll simply tell me which way.”

“The third door on the left at the top of the stairs, my lady.” The man gave her directions without any surprise or disapproval. His reaction was that of a servant accustomed to late-night arrivals such as hers. Based on Mathias’s instructions to the carriage driver, she’d already realized it was the house Lord Thornbury used for assignations with his current lady of choice.

As she climbed the steps to the second floor, she wondered if Mathias used the house for his own liaisons. The thought made her stomach lurch. She dismissed the idea immediately. It didn’t matter if Mathias did or didn’t. All that mattered at the moment was that she was here and intent on going through with her plan.

The carpeted hall at the top of the stairs muffled the sound of her evening gown as she moved toward Mathias’s door. She hesitated slightly as she faced the closed barrier standing between the two them. With a quiet knock, she waited for him to answer the door.

“Enter.” Harsh, abrupt, and filled with suppressed violence, the command made her hesitate a mere fraction of a second before she opened the door and stepped into the room.

Mathias stood with his back to her, one hand resting on the mantle of a small fireplace. He was shirtless, and the muscles of his back were like cords of supple steel. Tension radiated off his body as if he was battling inner demons. Excitement and a good measure of trepidation spread its way through Ophelia as she pressed her hand into her stomach. It was a pointless gesture to calm her suddenly unsteady nerves.

“What is it Shipton?” he snarled before he finished off the glass of liquor in his hand.

He continued to stare into the fire, and Ophelia moved forward quietly. As if realizing she wasn’t a servant he turned to face her. The moment he saw her, Mathias jerked in surprise. Clearly stunned by her appearance, he didn’t move or say a word. He simply stared at her in disbelief. Ophelia closed the distance between them and reached out to touch the hard muscles of his chest. The warmth of him skimmed its way across her skin until it engulfed her.

“What are you doing here, Ophelia?” he choked out, his expression still one of stupefied amazement.

“I think you know why, Mathias.” Her reply made him take a step back, and the warmth of him vanished. She held his gaze steadily. “Do you intend to refuse me?”

“You’re damn right I do,” he growled.

“Why?” The question seemed to startle him before his jaw became a hard, inflexible line.

“Because our agreement didn’t include sharing my bed.”

“Only someone else’s? Chelmsford, perhaps?”

“Yes, God damn it. I promised I’d turn you into a swan, and I have. You were right to begin with. A shorter time period would have been quite sufficient.”

Mathias brushed past her and walked toward a small chest of drawers where a decanter of liquor sat on a silver tray. As he passed her, the fresh, woodsy scent emanating off him filled her senses. Dear Lord, the man smelled delicious. She closed her eyes for a brief moment before focusing her gaze on him once more. In a vicious gesture, he splashed more alcohol into his glass. He took a swig before he turned to face her.

“I’ll see you to the back door so Thomas can take you home.”

He emptied his glass with another long drink and headed toward the door. Determined not to let him throw her out, Ophelia reached behind her and with a hard tug, she yanked at the back of her dress to pull it apart.

The sound of more than a dozen buttons hitting the floor as they were ripped from the gown made Mathias come to a halt. He whirled around to stare at her with a look of astonishment that equaled his reaction when she’d entered his room. She tugged hard on the back of her dress again, and another round of popping filled the air.

Small, rounded buttons flew every which way and further away this time. Ophelia didn’t care where they landed. All that mattered was ensuring Mathias understood she wasn’t going to leave. With her dress gaping open in the back, she pushed the gown off her shoulders and down over her hips. It pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of the dress.

“I’m not leaving, Mathias.”

The dazed look on his face emphasized how much her actions had stunned him, and it was clear he was uncertain how to react. She undid her garters then placed her foot on a nearby chair to roll the silk hose off first one leg and then the other. Tossing the silk garments aside, she undid the laces holding her combination in place.

A hoarse sound echoed out of Mathias’s throat, and it increased her confidence as she pulled her combination off then dropped it to the floor. With nothing more than her chemise covering her, she slowly walked toward him. Reaching up to her breasts, she lightly touched her nipples beneath the thin lawn material.