Page 49 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
Macie’s gaze followed his movement. Her eyes narrowed, her expression growing curious. “Were you and Jon up to some mischief when you were boys? It left its mark.”
“Something like that,” he said, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue.
Her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to pry.”
Blast it, the last thing he wanted to talk about was that small, fading mark on his skin. He had never given a damn about the flaw. But the memory of the night he’d received that scar cut deeper than the blade of the bastard who had inflicted it.
“No need to regret yer question. There’s not much to say about it, is all,” he said, softening his tone. “Now, tell me more about the fierce ghost of yer ancestor.”
“Whether or not he was a pirate, he was a seafaring man, bold and brave. My grandfather remembered he was quite formidable in protecting what was his.”
He placed the photograph back in its place. “If the man has come back as a spirit, I suspect he would watch over ye.”
“Yes, I imagine he would.” She flashed a grin. “So I suggest you continue to be a gentleman while you are in this house.”
“A gentleman, eh?”
“Most definitely.” She reached up, drawing the pad of her thumb over the contour of his jaw. Bloody hell, was she trying to drive him mad?
He pulled in a low breath. “That would be wise.”
“Unfortunately, I must agree.” Her plump mouth curved at the corners. “We would not want to shock the ghosts, now would we?”
“I’d wager they’ve seen their share of ungentlemanly scenes.”
“I suspect you’re right.” She shrugged. “If they are so rude as to spy on us, perhaps we should give them something to talk about.”
“Ye do enjoy a scandal, don’t ye, lass?”
“At times. Pity you do not share my interest.”
“I have no interest in stirring the gossips to talk, much less those who no longer walk among the living.”
He met her vibrant eyes. Macie was playing with fire. Ah, he had an interest. But it didn’t have a bloody thing to do with scandal or ghosts or staging a well-timed scene. No, it had everything to do with the woman who stood temptingly within reach. If he wasn’t careful, a man could lose himself in her emerald gaze.
“I’ve found creating a minor stir to be rather amusing,” she went on, her expression turning pensive. “Dabbing a bit of tarnish onto mygood namehas been a matter of self-preservation.”
“Self-preservation, eh?”
Her teeth grazed her lower lip. “I do not expect you to understand.”
For a long moment, he considered her words. “Macie, I know more than ye think.”
“Do you?” She lowered her gaze, then met his eyes again. “Since my debut, I’ve been viewed as a prize to be taken. Valued not for myself. Not for my talent. Not for my wit. But only as a means to an end.”
As a means to her father’s fortune.The unspoken words hung in the air.
“So ye’ve chased the blighters away, using whatever tool is at yer disposal.”
“Much to my father’s consternation.” She veiled her eyes with her lashes. “Well, then, enough of this. I didn’t come here today to blather on about noble nobs and my oh-so-tragic plight. We both have far better things to do.”
“Ye’re not blathering, Macie.” Gently, he brushed a rebellious curl behind her ear, his fingertip lingering over her silky cheek.“Ye’re right to drive away the hare-brained dolts. They don’t deserve a woman like ye.”
She studied him for a long moment. “You do surprise me, Finn Caldwell. Every time I think I have puzzled you out, I realize I cannot.”
“I am not an enigma, Macie.” He shrugged. “I am just a man.”
A man who can see the true beauty of the woman who is standing before him. A man who wants to hold her. To touch her. To kiss her senseless.
