Page 15 of Tempting the Scoundrel
Oh, she was too clever by half. “What do you think?”
Lady Alexandra toyed with her hat. “You did not look appalled at the book’s euphemism.”
“And so?”
“You are a rogue.”
Thorne chuckled. “Just a moment ago, you seemed more appalled by me being a schoolmaster.”
“Oh, I am. Rogues I can handle. Schoolmasters wholooklike rogues . . .” She raised an eyebrow. “Yes. You, Lord Locke, are too charming. That makes you dangerous.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Nicholas,” he reminded her. “Or call me Nick, if you like.”
“Now, now,” she chided. “We don’t know each other well enough. And you did not even protest when I called you dangerous. I find that suspect.”
If Thorne weren’t an accomplished confidence artist, she might have rattled him enough to reconsider the charade. But she was flirting with him, and that was enough for Thorne to lure her in. After all, a decent seduction first required a healthy bit of flirtation. The second thing? Understanding. Thorne had studied the broadsheets her father provided; sure, he was a slow reader, but he comprehended why she terrified those swells.
They didn’t understand her, and men feared what they didn’t understand.
“You, also, did not seem appalled by the book’s euphemism,” Thorne said.
At the edge of the village, they came to a split in the road. The one that would separate their destinations. She to the Earl of Kent’s estate, and he, to a property that did not belong to Baron Locke at all. Baron Locke was a dead title, a role that would not hold up under scrutiny. It was meant only to last for three months. Just long enough to swindle her.
Lady Alexandra paused, passing him a mischievous smile. “And so?” she asked, echoing his earlier words.
Thorne shoved those thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t afford to care for a mark, no matter how surprising. “You are a lady rogue.”
She kept her smile. “Perhaps I am,” she murmured. Then she started down the road away from him. She looked over her shoulder and called out, “Lord Locke?”
“Yes?” he called back.
“In true wicked fashion, I’ll dispense with the formalities. I shall call you Nick if you call me Alex.”
He watched her until she reached a bend in the road and disappeared. And when she left, she took all the light with her.
Chapter 5
London. Four years later.
Alexandra woke to a man holding a pistol to her head.
“Get up,” the man said, “all nice and easy like. And if ye make a sound, I’ll put a bullet in you.”
Alexandra’s heart stuttered and the breath left her lungs. The only thing she could do was nod, her fingernails digging into the quilt as the barrel pressed to her temple. The intruder was on top of her. It was too dark to see his features, but he smelled of cheroot smoke and spirits. The scent mercifully eased as he backed away to let her rise.
With shaking limbs, Alexandra slid off the bed.
Do not show weakness. Do not.
The dim light from the open window illuminated her assailant’s features. He was tall and thin, his cheekbones prominent enough to cast shadows across his face. She could not see the color of his eyes, but she felt them all over her. Head to toe. He assessed her like a horse about to bring him a fortune.
Alexandra tried to hide her shiver. She wore nothing but a thin night rail. The garment was a vulnerability: useless, flimsy, hiding little, not ideal for fleeing. He would capture her before she managed to alert the servants.
Where was the guard Nick had promised? Had he abandoned her, then, for the insults, the caustic words? Worse: One brother was across the sea, and the other lived fifteen minutes away on foot. What servants she did have could not protect her from a man with a pistol. Alexandra had never felt more isolated and alone.
All the way up here, they couldn’t even hear her screams.
The intruder made an appreciative sound, the pistol still firm in his grip. “Shoulda known Thorne’s woman was a looker. I’d rip off that scrap of fabric meself if I hadn’t been told not to.”
