Page 11 of The Taming of a Wicked Rogue

The ladies turned, their gazes wide. He fixed his attention on the prettiest girl—a petite, fair-haired thing with rosy cheeks. The color in her face deepened when he widened his smile.

“Ladies, this is Lord Leonard. As I said, he is in residence and we expect Lord Preswick to join us soon,” Mrs. Jones said. “We were just finishing touring the house, my lord,” she met his gaze boldly, “and shall be out of your way presently.”

“Oh, there is no rush.” He held up a hand. “In fact—” He paused, spying movement outside. The large windows leading down the righthand side of the room offered plenty of light to view the paintings but were carefully set on the side of the house where the sunlight would not hit the paintings directly. It also gave him a fine view of Rebecca slipping along the side of the house. She paused, peered around the edge of the next window, spied him and rolled her eyes.

Blast.

“Forgive me, ladies, I just recalled a...meeting to which I was meant to attend.”

Mrs. Jones’s mouth opened and then shut. Her gaze narrowed but Leo hastened away before anything could be said by either her or the visitors.

That woman was most certainly spying for his mother, so he’d have to be cautious or sway her to his side. She’d always been fond of all three of them so with any luck, he could persuade her not to write of his deeds—or misdeeds to his mother.

Notthat he had done anything wrong of course, nor did he intend to.

After all, he was merely helping a lady in need. His mother could hardly complain about that. If one thought about it, it was practically a noble pursuit and she should be pleased indeed her son behaved so.

He caught up with Rebecca a short way from the house. She ducked behind a tree, her attention fixed on the house rather than him, and he strolled around it, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Good morning.”

She whirled in his direction and pressed a hand to her chest. “Leo!”

“I prefer this.” He gestured up and down her.

She wrinkled her nose and glanced down at the crumpled muslin gown. “As you said, I do not make a good boy,” she muttered.

“Are you admitting I was correct?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled.

He let his gaze linger on the womanly figure presented to him. Despite the state of her pale blue gown, it clung to curves that had certainly developed since he had known her. There was a softness to her arms and shoulders that hadn’t been there before, and it made him want to grind his teeth as he wondered if there was a softness to her thighs and belly too, and how her figure would feel under his palms.

“Where are you going?” he asked gruffly, forcing his gaze to her face.

It did not help matters much. The softness that had him so enraptured had found itself to her small mouth. Though delicate, the lips were full, and he still recalled how soft they were, even after all these years. Her brown, red-tinged hair was wild, tumbling about her shoulders, no doubt a victim of her having no one to do it for her. It framed her chin and kept his focus on her mouth.

She scowled. “Do you not have guests to see to? No doubt they are missing you.”

“They are there to see the house. Not me.”

“I rather think they’d prefer to see you.”

He chuckled. “Maybe so but they will have to content themselves with Mrs. Jones.”

She tilted her head. “You are forgoing an opportunity to charm young ladies?”

“Hardly forgoing,” he drawled. “I do believe Mrs. Jones had several other requests for tours over the coming weeks.” He let his lips curve. “Plenty of opportunity to charm young ladies.”

Her gaze narrowed, and he wished to God he did not regret the words.

∞∞∞

WHY REBECCA FELT the need to mention the ladies, she did not know.

Liar.

Very well, she knew. But she had given up any right to feel jealousy a long time ago. If Leo wanted to charm and flirt and likely bed whatever woman he so chose, it had nothing to do with her.

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