Page 18 of To Catch A Rogue
"And this is Miss Rathinger," Gemma's voice softened as she beheld Lark, "the last legitimate member of our expedition."
"Lark, if you'll please," Lark replied,
She took the seat directly opposite Charlie, looking particularly fetching in a pair of tight leather leggings, a white shirt, and a black velvet over-corset that hugged her narrow waist and created curves in places he'd never truly noticed before.
At least, not on her.
Lark noticed him noticing, and her hazel eyes narrowed to thin slits, her fingers flicking in sign language."What's wrong with my outfit?"
"Nothing's wrong,"he replied, cocking his finger just so. She'd changed while he'd been trying to explain the whole mess to Gemma.
"Then why are you staring?"
"Because you have a little something... right here...."He indicated his chest, and Lark looked down, as if expecting to find a tea stain or something.
He could practically feel the moment she realized what he'd been referring to. Heat burned into her cheeks, and while her retaliatory look might have been able to make a lesser man's balls shrivel, he was long-since immune.
"They're called breasts, you idiot."
"I'm well acquainted, thank you."His fingers stalled."Not with yours. With the general area of female anatomy."
"I'll bet."
"I'm trying to compliment you."Badly."I like the... corset."
Lark rolled her eyes."I'll see if the dressmaker can make one in your size."
Charlie slowly became aware that Byrnes, who was sitting next to him, was watching the flick of fingers with a very rapt expression.
"Uh-oh," Byrnes murmured to his wife, Ingrid, who was sitting on the other side of him. "I recognize that look. Fifty quid we've just met the future Mrs. Todd."
Ingrid's bronze eyes swiftly examined both him and Lark. "I'm not taking that bet."
No. No, no, no, no.It had been all fun and games last month, when they were betting on whether Malloryn would get his bride to the altar or not.
He didnotwant to be subject of the next Rogues betting book.
Kincaid, the burly blue blood who'd once been a mech, leaned forward. "What bet?"
"No bet," Charlie said quickly. "There is no bet."
Everyone around the table looked at him.
"We'll talk later," Byrnes, the treacherous bastard, told Kincaid. He clapped a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Why don't you introduce the rest of us?"
Charlie gave him a dirty look "Lark, this is Caleb Byrnes, an ex-Nighthawk who has far too much time on his hands; his lovely wife, Ingrid, a verwulfen bounty hunter who could probably rip your throat out if she wanted to; Liam Kincaid, a mech who is now a blue blood and thrilled with the transformation; his fiancée, Ava McLaren, a crime scene investigator with the Nighthawks; Herbert's the one who looks like a butler and will be trying to offer you tea every second, but don't think him any the less dangerous; you've met Gemma Townsend, the leader of this motley crew; and uh, Obsidian, who is...."
He broke off. How the hell could you explain Obsidian?
"A former assassin who worked for Lord Balfour," Obsidian replied.
Blade looked interested. "Former as in, you don't murder people no more, or former as in, you don't work for Balfour no more?"
"I'm making my own choices in life now. When it comes to Lord Balfour, however, there might be a little bit of something bloody left in me."
"Fair 'nough." Blade took the seat at the head of the table.
"And Barrons, you both know." Charlie tilted his head toward his elder half-brother, who was watching proceedings with a faintly amused expression.
