That Despicable Rogue Read online

  ‘Where would you like to start?’ she asked, surveying the carnage on the floor.

  He scratched his head. ‘I am not altogether sure. I am tempted to say let’s shove it all in a cupboard, but I know that it needs to be properly ordered because I can never find things. I have started grouping things into piles.’

  ‘I can see that,’ she returned sarcastically, and watched his eyes dance with amusement. ‘Would you please enlighten me as to the method with which they have been sorted?’

  He slipped his arm through hers and led her in a circle around the mess while Hannah did her best not to revel in the contact.

  ‘This pile pertains to current pressing business—letters, bills, agreements and such—and these need to be readily at hand. This lot is all correspondence. I have got into the bad habit of keeping everything, just in case I ever need it, so we should probably discard a lot of the rubbish and keep only the important letters. Over here...’

  His arm slipped casually around her waist, sending a ripple of awareness shooting up her spine, and he led her across the room to the most enormous heap of ribbon-bound documents.

  ‘These are business agreements, shares and investments.’ He glanced towards the final pile and curled his lip in distaste. ‘And I have called this pile the miscellaneous pile. There is all sorts here.’

  Hannah stood and tapped her chin in thought, then pointed to the largest pile. ‘If these are all investments, and such, then perhaps we should begin with these and organise them alphabetically. That way, when we go through the correspondence and other documents we can match them to a particular investment. Then everything will be in one place.’

  Ross stared at her and then lifted one eyebrow, impressed. ‘That is a splendid idea—it certainly makes more sense than keeping them all in the order they came in. I bow to your superior judgement, Prim.’ He executed an exaggerated court bow and then turned to Captain Carstairs. ‘Come on, John—get off your backside and start helping.’

  The blond man stood half-heartedly and saluted. ‘Yes, sir!’

  To make the task easier, Hannah wrote the letters of the alphabet on squares of paper and laid them out on the sideboard and desk. Then the three of them took a pile each and began to sort them, as she had suggested. After little more than an hour they had completed it. Almost every letter had a small heap of legal-looking documents grouped beneath it.

  ‘You certainly have made a lot of investments,’ Hannah commented. ‘Have they all been profitable?’

  ‘In the main,’ Ross answered cryptically, but made no effort to elaborate.

  She supposed that he was entitled to keep his finances private, and it was considered vulgar to discuss money.

  ‘Shall we start on the correspondence now?’

  Carstairs rolled his eyes. ‘Does it all have to be done today? I am all for helping out, but this is a terrible waste of my leave and I am starving.’ He pulled out his pocket watch for emphasis and pointed to the dial. ‘See here—it is already well past lunchtime and I had hoped to enjoy a little rest and relaxation during my visit. What do you say we continue this tomorrow?’

  Hannah glanced at Ross and watched his eyes slowly rise to meet hers. Wordlessly they communicated, and he gave her a secret look of exasperation before capitulating.

  ‘The rest can wait till tomorrow.’

  ‘If we leave all this on the floor Dog will chew it.’ Oblivious to the bemused look that passed between the two men, Hannah began to load the remaining piles back into the empty chests.

  ‘Why don’t you let Cook know that we are ready to eat, John, and rustle up some tea?’ Ross said to his friend. ‘Prim and I can tidy all this up.’

  To say that Carstairs bolted to the door in relief was a slight exaggeration, but he did not need asking twice.

  As soon as he’d left Ross turned to her and smiled kindly. ‘Are you feeling better today?’

  ‘Much better,’ Hannah murmured, feeling a little self-conscious. ‘Thank you for being thoughtful and not mentioning it in front of Captain Carstairs.’

  He brushed this off with a careless wave. ‘He would only feel guilty for upsetting you inadvertently.’

  She could feel his eyes on her but did not dare to look.

  ‘Do you mind me asking how old you were when all this happened?’

  ‘Barely nineteen. I was very young and very green.’ Hannah busied herself by plonking more papers in the chest. Now that they could apparently communicate without words she did not want him to see the vulnerability she felt. ‘You probably think that I am very silly to let something that happened so long ago bother me still.’

  ‘Not at all. Sometimes old wounds take a long time to heal. Did you love him?’

  That was such a personal question to ask—and so typical of him.

  ‘At the time I believed that I did,’ she answered honestly as she felt her heart melt a little at his obvious concern. ‘Although it was, as people are prone to say, a good match. He was from a well-respected family and could offer me a comfortable life.’ That part was close to the truth as well.

  ‘He broke your heart, then—no wonder you are so against the idea of marriage.’

  He reached for a pile of papers and as he did so his hand brushed against hers for an instant. It was enough to set her pulse fluttering.

  ‘I am not sure that I was heartbroken,’ she countered quickly. Her soul had been crushed, and all of her girlish dreams had been cruelly shattered to such an extent she had not had the energy to think about her heart. ‘It did leave me humiliated.’

  He turned and leant his hips against the sideboard, looking thoughtful—and deliciously handsome. His thin shirt moulded to the muscles in his upper arms as he folded them across his chest distractingly.

  ‘And that has no doubt put you off risking your heart again.’

  Had it? In Yorkshire there had been no one to offer her heart to, but now that she thought about it it did make some sort of sense. She had certainly been adamantly against the idea of considering marriage ever since Eldridge’s betrayal, although she had always thought that was because she did not want to be controlled by another man. Perhaps she did fear falling in love again.

  ‘What made him call it off?’

  ‘All he said was that he no longer thought me suitable to be his wife.’

  Eldridge had called her a whore.

  His perceptive green eyes regarded her with outraged sympathy. ‘But he gave you no reason why?’

  His scrutiny was too intense—he saw too much. So Hannah turned back to the task in hand before she answered. ‘I never had the opportunity to ask. I have not seen him since.’

  She reached for another pile of papers but his hand stopped her. It felt reassuringly warm and solid on top of hers.

  ‘And that does not bother you? You have the right to know the truth—especially when it has caused you so much distress. It would bother me a great deal. I would not be able to rest until I had got to the bottom of it and said my bit.’ Gently, he caught his fingers to her chin and tipped it so that she faced him. ‘Would you like me to give him a piece of my mind on your behalf?’ His green eyes had hardened to flints. ‘I think that I would enjoy that.’

  Hannah’s heart jumped to her throat. She was beyond touched by his reaction and his offer to be her knight in shining armour. Nobody had ever stood up for her before.

  ‘There is no need. I am well rid of him. But thank you for the offer.’

  He sighed, but did not let go of her chin. His large hand slid up and cupped her cheek. ‘Then you are a better person than me, Prim,’ he said vehemently. ‘I would seek the scoundrel out and ask him what he was about. Then I would get my own back.’

  The fierce determination in his voice excited her.

  ‘It is so far in the past that it hardly matters now...’

  But it did. She had not realised how much it still mattered until yesterday, when the memory of it had assaulted her and reopened the wounds.

 
; ‘The past shapes us, Prim. It moulds us and affects all our future decisions. Sometimes it spurs us to change things and sometimes it holds us back. I think this is holding you back. It has certainly put you off marriage.’

  His thumb was rubbing lazy circles on the underside of her jaw and it was making it difficult for her to concentrate.

  ‘That is not the case. I am too long on the shelf and I value my independence too much. I have no desire to find myself a husband, nor to obey his commands.’ She said this with less enthusiasm than she’d intended.

  His thumb stilled and he gazed deeply into her eyes until she feared that she might actually drown in the intensity.

  ‘You are assuming that all men will be like him. They are not. Ten years ago I believed that all aristocrats were nasty. I convinced myself that they were all untrustworthy and evil men who want to use and abuse those below them. But they are not. I have now met a great many of them, and benefited from their acquaintance because they have introduced me to possibilities that I had not previously considered. I soon came to realise that my prejudices were unfounded—that I had to treat each one as an individual rather than tar them all with the same brush. You cannot judge all men by your fiancé, Prim. That is unfair to them and you are denying yourself possibilities.’

  Hannah felt a little unbalanced by his assessment—and by the fact that he was standing overwhelmingly close. Was he right?

  ‘I prefer to be on my own.’

  ‘From what I have seen you are not that sort of woman at all. You might try to act that way, but your true character betrays you. You are thoughtful. You make Reggie feel useful. You always ensure that there are sweet things on the tea tray without me having to ask for them. You are a nurturer, Prim. Look at how you have transformed this house already. You have not merely overseen the redecorating—you have made this house a home. I do not believe that you do not want those things for yourself—yet you have convinced yourself you do not want them because you are frightened they will all be taken away again. He has made you lose confidence in yourself. Don’t give him the satisfaction. You are a beautiful young woman...’

  He had inched so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face.

  ‘A beautiful and desirable woman.’

  Hannah had no recollection of standing on her toes, nor did she know the exact moment that she moved nearer to help him close the distance between them, but her lips appeared to be magnetically drawn to his of their own accord.

  His mouth was soft as it lightly touched hers, but that soon changed. His fingers threaded into her hair and cradled her scalp, and with just that one hand he pulled her flush against him and plundered her mouth with his own.

  Ross had not actually been trying to charm her. The kiss had happened naturally, as it had yesterday in the garden. One minute he had been trying to understand the cause of her sadness and the next he had felt a surge of protectiveness and had needed to make her feel better. Kissing her had not even entered his mind right up until the moment he had instigated it, and she had melted against him with a ragged sigh. Once that had happened he had been incapable of holding back—and apparently so had she.

  What had started as a gentle meeting of mouths was now much more urgent and had taken on a life of its own. There was nothing prim or cold about the woman in his arms. She fairly pulsed with unspent passion and matched his ardour kiss for kiss. One of her hands was fisted in his hair and the other was splayed across his chest, exploring the shape of it brazenly. With a groan he turned, so that their positions were reversed and she had her back against the sideboard. Swiftly he lifted her to sit upon it, so that they were the same height, and cushioned his body between her legs while her tongue tangled with his.

  The sound of rattling teacups had her pushing him away and scampering off the sideboard. Quick as a flash she busied herself by grabbing up a pile of letters and dumping them clumsily into the open chest, just as John sauntered into the room, closely followed by Reggie and a tray of clattering crockery.

  He took one look at Ross, taking in the rumpled shirt and dishevelled hair, and raised one eyebrow in question. ‘Tea is served,’ he said with great ceremony.

  Ross smoothed down his hair and made sure that his shirt was properly tucked in. He was not going to explain himself to John. Judging by the knowing grin he had pasted on his face, his friend had already put two and two together.

  ‘Miss Preston,’ John asked innocently, ‘shall I pour the tea?’

  Ross saw that Prim refused to turn around, and she still looked delightfully rumpled. A heavy lock of her hair had escaped its pins and bounced next to her cheek as she worked and the visible tips of her ears were bright pink. She scraped up the last papers and shoved them inside the chest.

  ‘If you don’t mind, Captain Carstairs. I have urgent things that require my attention.’

  Without turning, she dashed out of the room and slammed the door smartly behind her.

  ‘Was it something I said?’ John drawled as he sat down on the leather chesterfield. ‘Or something you did?’

  Ross sat in the wingback chair and picked up his cup to avoid answering. He took a large gulp of tea that brought tears to his eyes as the hot liquid burned down his gullet, but pretended not to be in acute physical pain as a result.

  The intensity of that kiss had bothered him. He could not remember when he had been so immersed in one—to the extent that he had not heard Reggie and John arriving. And Reggie was not known for being light on his enormous feet. If they had not been interrupted he doubted either one of them would have had the strength to break it. Hell, another minute and he would have had her skirts up around her knees and the falls of his trousers open.

  He had never allowed himself to be so out of control before—he was not sure he felt comfortable with the lapse. Prim had a strange power over him that was unnerving. For the first time in his life Ross found himself feeling more than simple physical attraction for a woman—something he had the good sense to find worrying.

  Prim had a mind. He could discuss things with her. He wanted to understand her vulnerabilities and he enjoyed her fiery temperament. She might be quick-tempered, but that trait made her passions rise quickly too. For the last ten years he had worked tirelessly to get where he was and not given two hoots as to what people thought of him, yet he did not want to be a disappointment to her. That was quite unsettling.

  He looked forward to coming back to Barchester Hall too, and not simply because he now had a proper home to come back to. He enjoyed the comforting ambience Prim had created for him. He appreciated her thoughtfulness—even when it was camouflaged in irritation on her part.

  Ross had always been the one who looked after people—his mother and his sister, Reggie, all the other waifs and strays he’d collected out of a sense of duty. But Prim looked after him. That was a lovely feeling. She might nag at him and tut—but she brought him tea to stop him from working too long and getting headaches. She had brought order and calmness into his life—which he realised he had been missing. And she could certainly rouse his passions quicker than any other woman had ever done before.

  If only she would share his bed with him every night she would be the perfect wife.

  Where the hell had that errant thought come from? Ross scowled and snatched up his tea in consternation. He was not ready to be thinking about wives. Not until his sister was settled. The woman was making him daft.

  ‘I can see I have spoiled your mood.’ John had the audacity to look rather pleased with himself. ‘I must say, though, if she is a spy then she is a very good one. She never gave a single piece of paper more than a passing glance. Unless, of course, she is not interested in your investments. Perhaps she will tackle your correspondence with a bit more vigour.’

  ‘You told me to soften her up. I was merely doing a bit of softening. Are you sure she did not pay any particular interest in anything?’ He sincerely hoped his friend would drop it.

  John shook his head. ‘
I kept a very close eye on her the whole time. She either reads very fast or only reads the first few lines of everything.’ He took a sip of his own tea thoughtfully. ‘Of course she could slip down here later, while we are not looking, and have a proper read. She has made everything much easier to find for herself as well as for you.’

  ‘And she might not be a spy at all,’ Ross added irritably, wishing that it was true. ‘In which case we are both wasting our time.’

  John stared at him for several moments before one side of his mouth quirked ruefully. ‘An interesting point of view. Perhaps you are not the only one doing a bit of softening?’

  Ross smiled tightly. ‘Fear not, my friend, I am quite immune to that, I can assure you. You know that I am not interested in anything other than discovering the truth.’

  It was a lie, and the possibility that such a thing might be the case worried him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hannah dunked her head under the cool water of the pond and then swam in another lazy circle. Even now, hours afterwards, she still felt hot and bothered after that kiss. Whatever had got into them both she could not say, and at some point she would have to tell him never to do it again, but for now she was content to revel in it and the sensations it had elicited.

  His wise words had set her mind whirring. It was galling to think that Eldridge had damaged her to such an extent that she had been hiding behind their break-up all these years and wielding her independence as a shield to prevent herself from moving on with her life. How had he put it? Denying herself possibilities.

  The problem was, lately the only possibilities she could think of involved Ross Jameson. She could dress it up however she wanted, but she felt more for him than simply lust. Her attempts at unmasking him had become increasingly half-hearted because, she realised with alarm, she had apparently lost the taste for it. In fact she really did not seem to actually want to find anything any longer.

  She had done absolutely no digging at the warehouse. And today, when she had had the perfect justification to read through his private papers, she had barely given them more than a cursory glance. Instead she had been too busy enjoying his company.