Page 17 of Ruthless with a Rogue
Winning.
Egads, something was terribly wrong with her.It was the only explanation.She wasn’t a stranger to lust.The man was attractive, yes, and he had a presence that stole a person’s breath—and wits, but it wasn’t as though every favorably looking gentleman had this effect on her.It’d never been this heady—this violent.Warren had always been tender, patient, and almost reverent in their intimacy, never pressuring her, letting her control the pace.She frowned.A little too patient.
Perhaps that was the reason for her reaction?It had to be the strength of his desire for her, the determination to have her.Want.She shivered.Warren had never been on the verge of losing control.She tried to imagine her fair-haired, blue-eyed beau growling.She couldn’t.
But perhaps…perhaps that was to her advantage.Lord Dunmore’s determination to seduce her was just the tool she needed to keep him motivated to assist her.He had his clothes back, after all.What was stopping him from reneging?If she gave in just a little every so often—not because she wanted to, of course—but to give him the impression he was making progress, on the verge of succeeding, she’d keep her leverage over him.
Livy stood on shaky legs.She needed to get back to her aunt.
She pushed off the door, set her shoulders, and walked back to the ballroom, regaining her composure with each step.By the time she reached the ballroom, her polite smile was back in place.
No one would be any the wiser.
No one would know she had just been kissed quite thoroughly.
No one would know she had bargained with Hades himself.
Livy just hoped she could avoid sharing the same fate as Persephone.
13
Derek
Derekhummedasheran his fingers over the abacus sitting on the desk’s scratched surface and awaited Miss Forester.A plate of mostly eaten shortbread biscuits lay next to a text on calculus and a stack of journals, the top one written by notable polymath Frederick Hodge.
Frowning, he picked up one of the journals and flipped through it.Notations filled the columns of the journal entries—thoughts, observations, the occasional equation.He squinted, trying to make out the notes.The scribblings looked to be corrections to Hodge’s theories.Apparently, Lord Forester was a mathematician.
Approaching footsteps echoed in the hall, and then Miss Forester appeared in the doorway, pale yellow skirts swaying about her ankles.The subtle hint of vanilla wafted to his nose, drowning out the stale smell in the Forester’s rented rooms.
He drank in the sight of her.Another simple dress, outdated and lacking any embellishment.But did she need any embellishment other than those blue eyes?She could wear a sack and still be captivating.He clenched his jaw.God, what was wrong with him?
“Miss Forester,” he murmured with a polite bow.
She curtsied, lowering her gaze.He almost scoffed.Truly, she was playing demure?Bloody rubbish.The clothes-stealing mouse.
“Lord Dunmore.”She rose, raising her chin and meeting his gaze.
There she was.Miss Forester may play prim, but it was clear she was anything but.He sipped the whisky he’d filched from the dilapidated sideboard.And promptly broke into a fit of coughing.He turned away and fought back the burn behind his eyes as he wheezed.God, that was bloody awful.Cheap dresses, cheap rooms, cheap whisky.The Foresters were worse off than he’d initially presumed.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting…though I see you made yourself welcome.”She looked pointedly at his whisky glass, and he didn’t miss the delighted retribution glimmering in her eyes at his reaction to the awful stuff.
Oh, she was a saucy one.She looked like an angel, but she had claws.He’d felt them.Looked forward to feeling them again.
“My aunt will be down momentarily.We arrived in town not too long ago and are still settling into our accommodations.”
He glanced around the parlor, the windowless parlor—another indication of the Forester’s lack of funds.Two faded brown upholstered settees faced each other with a scratched walnut table between them.A worn sage chaise lounge chair sat in the corner next to the weathered sideboard.
“Yes, quite…lovely accommodations.You are here with only your aunt?”
A slight flush dusted her cheeks, but she lifted her chin higher.“Yes, my papa has no interest in town.He is an academic.It would throw him completely off balance to be away from his study.”
Ah, so her father was the academic.But he wasn’t here.So, why the material on mathematics?And no mention of a mother, only an aunt.
“He is always off in his own little world.Or, I suppose, out of our world.He is fascinated by space.An astronomer.”A fond smile tilted her lips.
Derek picked up the calculus text off the desk, fanning the pages.“So not a mathematician.That must mean this is yours.Intriguing reading choice for a young lady.Riveting stuff.I see you enjoy it while partaking in…shortbread.”
She stiffened.
