Page 8 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“I’m not nearly so wild as the gossips would have it. For the most part.”
Macie lifted her gaze to meet his. She’d remembered him from the first moment she’d dangled inelegantly within his strong hands. Finn Caldwell was undeniably handsome, with a touch of devilish humor in his expression. Just as he’d been all those years before. But now, from a distinctly better vantage point—standing upright and firmly on her feet—she took a better look.
Nearly a decade had passed since that summer when Finn had visited their family’s country home in Bristol for the last time. In those days, her brother’s friend had worn his hair longer. Back then, the light brown strands had seemed a bit wild and untamed. Like him. His face had been fuller and ruddy cheeked. But the keen intelligence and brash confidence in his expression had not dimmed. Not one whit.
They’d been so young in those days, the three-year difference in their ages might as well have been a century. During that time, he’d regarded her—a slender, long-limbed girl of sixteen—with no more interest than if she’d been part of the furniture. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing the mischief in his gaze and the way tiny lines crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. Why, even their mother, prim and proper as she’d been, had not been able to resist smiling at his good-humored laugh. Finn Caldwell could charm any female in the room. With the current exception of Lady Drayton, that is. Given the hint of arrogance in his gaze, he was still well aware of that fact.
In those days, she’d thought Finn Caldwell appealing. Now, taking in his carved features and the sensuous curve of his mouth, she swallowed hard against an unfamiliar rush of heat. Ah, appealing was far too tame a word to describe the man Finn had become. The sensuous set of his full mouth and the rugged cut of his jaw drew her gaze with a nearly magnetic pull. As did the breadth of his shoulders, betraying a natural masculine power no amount of strategic padding could replicate. If she allowed her thoughts to wander, she could well imagine the sleek muscle beneath his unadorned white shirt and gray waistcoat. How would it feel to skim her fingertips over his skin, to learn the texture of the hair on his chest?
Oh, my. She blinked to clear her head. Could he have hazarded a guess as to the direction of her thoughts? If he had, he’d thankfully possessed the good sense to hide that awareness.
“I see ye’ve finally grown into yer legs,” he said, his voice low and husky, nearly seductive. Other than the highly unexpected nature of his commentary.
She lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “I beg your pardon.”
One corner of his mouth hitched, not quite a smile. “I remember a girl who had legs like a young colt, too blasted long for the rest of her.”
“I cannot imagine you were ever privy to the sight of my legs, too long or otherwise.”
“Surely ye haven’t forgotten the scandal ye stirred?”
“Scandal?” She bit back a smile. “Surely you have me confused with another.”
“Impossible. Ye’re one of a kind, Macie.”
She gave a deliberate little shrug. “One might say the same of you. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a young man practice his arrogant stare to perfection as you did.”
“I’ll have ye know I had no need to practice. Some things come naturally,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. “But I’dnever confuse ye with another lass on horseback. Those riding breeches ye wore while gallivanting about the countryside on that gelding of yers spurred every old biddy in the county to talk.”
“Ah, I loved that horse.” Wistful recollection swept her away. “Adonis was a gentle beast.”
“As I recall, yer father turned a rather alarming shade of red—or was it purple?—when ye trotted past those lords he was out to impress, all gathered at yer fine country house.”
“Red,” Macie said. “Papa does tend to become agitated far more frequently than is healthy.”
“Am I to surmise ye’re the cause?”
“At times.” She glanced at Lady Drayton, catching sight of the woman’s frosty gaze as Finn led her in time to the waltz.
Finn chuckled. “If he were here, he’d be that shade right about now, wouldn’t he?”
“Most likely. If he had his way, I’d be finding my way off the shelf.”
Finn’s brows hiked. “Wed to some lofty lord or another?”
“Papa has decided the one thing our family has yet to acquire is a title.”
“And the Viscount Drayton could offer that.”
Macie shrugged. “Among others. Papa would prefer the lord in question to have his own fortune, but he’s willing to... negotiate.”
Finn nodded his understanding. “But ye’re not?”
She allowed herself a brief smile. “So far, I’ve made it my life’s purpose to foil his plan.”
“As I hear it, ye’ve enjoyed smashing success. If I had a glass of champagne, I would raise a toast.”
“Somehow, I cannot envision you drinking champagne.”
