The Devil Rogue (6 page)

“You’ve got ten minutes to get your scrawny ass downstairs, your highness
.
”
S
tr
i
d
ing
angrily back down the hall
,
Ian
tried not to think of her
deliciously
curv
ed
behind.

How dare he speak to her like that
!
If she wasn’t feeling so poorly, Angela would have thrown that door open and tossed the basin of water in his too handsome face
. Instead, she
listened as the sound of his footsteps receded
. W
hen she was sure he was well out of earshot, she murmured under her breath,
“
Well, he
is
a Bloody barbarian
.
”
She then
used the cool water to bathe her own face
.

How could he have heard that?
She’d barely whispered it
!
The man obviously had excellent hearing
. She’d
do well to remember
it.

She reached for the
gown she
’d
arrived in
.
Was she to have nothing else to wear for the next three months
?
The thing would be in tatters by that time
.
She would just have to insist
Blackridge
allow her to send for her things
,
along with Rosemary’s.

What was she doing here
?
What had she been thinking, to make such a rash decision
?
Angela
didn’t know anything about this man,
Blackridge
, who had a reputation as a philandering womanizer
.
He was a heartless rogue, moving from one affair to the next, without a care to the consequences
.

And here she was, in
his
home, under his authority, with no place else to go
.
At this very moment, her own reputation was
a total
ruin, for she was certain word had already spread
of her arrival here
.
S
he’d been so desperate to leave her father’s house
she hadn’t cared about the consequences
.

Was she no better than
Blackridge
, then?

Angela rejected the idea that she could have anything in common with him. She certainly didn’t flit from one man’s bed to another’s. Her situation was entirely different. She’d had no choice.

But that wasn’t true.
She was a grown woman,
and had made a conscious decision to stay with him for the next three months. There was no one to blame but herself in this.
She would go forward, let it play out until the end.
She would do what was necessary to gain the freedom she desired so much
.

With the amount of money
Blackridge
was willing to pay, Angela would be able to support herself comfortably
.
Once she
had fulfilled their bargain
, she
w
ould move on and forget it had ever happened.

Angela’s thoughts
settled on
the reason she was here in the first place
.
She would be sharing
Blackridge’s
bed and her body soon
.
Her mouth
went
dry
. S
he swallow
ed
the lump that
had
formed in her throat
.
She knew next to nothing of men, and
absolutely
nothing at all about
performing the duties
he
expected of her
.
The idea that she would be lying naked with such a
virile man
, whose reputation as a skilled lover was unsurpassed, sent an involuntary shiver skittering over her skin.

She wondered why he’d chosen her out of the score of women who would no doubt jump at the chance to be his mistress
.
In the light of day, away from the dangerous situation with her father, Angela had to question
Blackridge’s
motives in making such an expensive deal
.

There was another, more elusive reason
to all of this
, she was almost sure of it
.
At the moment, however,
she cou
ldn’t imagine what it could
possibly
be.

After she finished dressing,
Angela
left her tiny room,
her stomach rumbling,
in search of the kitchen
s
.
The third floor was empty and quiet, and when she arrived on the second floor, no one was about there, either. For such a large house with an adequate staff, the place seemed deserted.

She
walked slowly, taking her time, working out the s
tiffness in her aching muscles.
S
he
examin
ed
each of
the large portraits
lining the walls on either side of the long, wide hallway
.
The paintings were obviously of long-deceased relatives, generations of Blackridge men and women, captured in a time-frozen moment
.
Each one gave an incremental history of clothing style as they changed through the ages
.
The last portrait, just before the stairs leading to the
main
level
, caught and held her attention.

It was Blackridge, the current viscount, in full-color glory
.
Her breath hitched, and her blood heated in her veins as her pulse increased to match the rhythm of her rapidly beating heart
.
Those penetrating golden eyes stared out from the painting as though he were alive and standing right in front of her
.
Again, they brought to mind a bird of prey – a predator – and she was literally his captive
.
The sensual curve of his generous lips had her imagining what they would feel like against hers.

What form of insanity
had she been afflicted with when she’d agreed to this arrangement
?
Angela’s heart
beat
into her throat as she began to really think about what she’d
gotten herself into
.
She’d always done what she was told, always follow
ed
the rules of propriety.

And now she would be sharing this man’s bed
.
The facsimile in the painting was no less intimidating, was just as heart-stoppingly handsome and mesmerizing as the real man
.
Soon, his hands would be touching her; those eyes would be gazing at her
and, quite possibly,
seeing more than what was on the surface.

With a shiver, she snapped
herself out of that ridiculous train of thought, inhaled a shaky breath and proceeded down the stairs
, continuing her
search of the kitchen
s
.
When she arrived on the main floor,
the
area
was empty.
Apparently, she was to find her own way
.
She was starving, and if she
must
face
Blackridge
with
a shred
of dignity, she would need fortif
ication
.

5

Villarreal / The Devil Rogue
                                     

Chapter 4

FINALLY, AFTER MAKING
several wrong turns,
Angela
entered
the kitchens
, hoping
it wasn’t too late
for
breakfast
.
She hadn’t
eaten since yesterday
morning
, as her grumbling stomach
persistently
reminded her
.

“Oh,
Miss Hopkins
!
” a portly, gray-haired woman said when she saw Angela standing
in the doorway
.
“Come over here and have a seat while I fix you something to eat
.
You
r
maid’s already been dow
n
.
She offered to help until her other duties called, the sweet thing.”

Angela gratefully
sat on the smooth wooden bench on one side of
the
long
table
.
In the center
was a bouquet of colorful flowers
that had been placed
in a round earthenware bowl
.
She inhaled their pleasing fragrance while she waited
.
“Rosemary was here?”
she asked
as
the woman
handed her
a cup of steaming tea.

“Aye, here and gone already, as I said.”

S
ipp
ing
slowly,
Angela
watch
ed
the woman bustle around the room, piling a plate high with
eggs
,
potatoes, sausages
,
and biscuits
.
She
wondered if the woman expected her to eat it all. She’d give it a good try.
“
Are you the cook, then?
”

“
B
eggin’ your pardon, miss
, how rude of me
!
Yes, I’m the cook here.
I’m Mrs. Olsen
.
My, but you’re such a wee thing, an
d so lovely, too
.
”
S
he set the plate down
in front of Angela
.

Mrs. Olsen didn’t seem to think it odd that a
complete
stranger was sitting in her kitchen
.
But she’d known Angela by name, and had obviously already met Rosemary
.
“Thank you, Mrs. Olsen,”
she
replied
with a
gracious
smile
.

The food
smelled delicious, making her mouth water
. H
er stomach gurgle
d
loudly in anticipation
.
She was just about to dig into the mound of fluffy scrambled eggs,
her fork poised over the plate,
when a large
,
sun-browned
hand reached from behind her, removing the plate
right out from under her nose
.
Ano
ther hand plucked
the
fork from her fingers before she’d even had time to put it in her mouth.

“Mrs. Olsen,”
Blackridge
said, “I believe the young lady would prefer dry toast and tea this morning.”
He handed the plate over to the cook, ignoring the deadly
glare
Angela
directed at him.

“Actually, I would prefer
something a little heartier, specifically,
th
at
plate of food, Mrs. Olsen,” Angela gritted
out
through her clenched teeth
.
S
he rose from the table, reach
ing
for the plate
.
Setting it back in front of her, she
began
shoveling the eggs into her mouth
, not caring about her bad manners
.

“
I gave an order for dry toast, so that is what you will have, princess,”
Blackridge
said,
prying
the fork
from her tightly clenched fingers.

Pieces of egg flew in every direction, some of it landing on his
immaculate
navy
sleeve
.
This time
, he toss
ed
the contents into the trash bin
. He
hand
ed
the empty plate to Mrs. Olsen
, and brushed off his sleeve
.

L
ean
ing
over her,
he
whispered
in
Angela’s
ear
.
“You agreed to my terms, princess, so you will do as I say for the next three months, is that clear enough for you?”

His
hot
breath caressed her
cheek
, causing a shiver of awareness to tingle down her spine
.
He was so large. It made
her feel small
in comparison
, delicate, womanly
.
She inhaled the scent of
sandalwood and lemons
.
She wanted to lean in, the better to smell him.
Her reaction caught her so unprepared, all she could do was nod her head.

He
straightened
.
“Good
.
Now, eat your toast and
then
report to Emma in the front parlor
.
She’s
the
head housekeeper
here
.
S
he’ll explain what your duties are to be for today.
”

Angela recalled how she’d felt standing in front of the
portrait
of
Blackridge
,
and realized one important fact:
the flesh and blood version
of him
was much more daunting
.

Sensing
the
sudden
emptiness of the space he had just occupied, Angela turned her head to see that he
was gone
.
S
hift
ing
her attention to Mrs. Olsen,
she
couldn’t help a quick laugh at
the cook’s
comical expression.

“My goodness, dearie
!
Why, I’ve never seen him treat a
woman
so
.
What do you suppose has gotten into him?”

“I wouldn’t know, Mrs. Olsen,
” Angela said, feeling grim over the cook’s comment. Apparently,
she
was the only woman he treated so cavalierly. T
he satisfaction
she’d
felt taking that plate back was well worth
it.

The cook chuckled.
“Glory be,
but
them flyin
’
eggs was a sight to see!
You might be a bit on the small side, but you’ve got spirit,
Miss Hopkins
.
Just you keep that up, and before long, you’ll have the master eating
right
out of your hand.”

He’d
probably
bite off
her fingers
.

Or kiss
them
.

Or lick
them
.

He was a wicked man.

Angela shivered. “D
on’t bother with the toast
, Mrs. Olsen
.
I’ll just be on my way to the parlor.”

“Are you sure
?
It’d be no trouble at all.
”

“
T
hank you, just the same, Mrs. Olsen,” Angela
said
, and left the kitchen in search of the front parlor
.
Her stomach
protested
at the loss of such a delicious breakfast
. At least
the tea had helped
to
settle it
,
somewhat.

IAN MADE HIS
way
to
the
study
, his thoughts on
his
encounter with the lovely
Miss
Hopkins
.
The girl had spunk, he
’d
grant her that
.
But
from
the look of things in the kitchen, she’d already convinced Mrs. Olsen to cater to
her every whim
.

All
Miss Hopkins
had to do, it seemed, was flash that s
weet
smile of hers, crook her
dainty
little finger, and everyone was eager to do her bidding
.

He remember
ed the way her golden hair was arranged in a loose pile
atop her head,
soft tendrils escaping to tease the flesh of her slender neck. There’d been an enchanting
sparkle of defiance in her blue eyes,
a subtle
floral fragrance
drifting in the air around her. It made him
want to get
closer
, to hover near her like a hummingbird drawn to sugar water.

She possessed such an air of innocence, it was
difficult to believe her to
be the cold, calculating woman who’d deceived so many
.

Something puzzled Ian, however.
He’d been surprised by the modesty of her gown
.
It was
not the type he would have expected her to be wearing
.
It
had
a plain design and
upon closer inspection,
appeared
faded and
worn
.
It was the same one s
he’d been wearing yesterday
, he realized
.
In fact,
her father’s
home
had
been
stark
ly furnished
and in
obvious
need of repairs
.
Ian
found it odd that
a
wealthy
family
with
a daughter
reputed
to be doted on and pampered
would
wear such a plain gown,
live in such meager surroundings.

Well, the
manner in which
Miss Hopkins
lived was no concern of his
.

It was the grief
and subsequent death
she and her devious father had caused that was the point of all this
.
His friend
–
hell
,
Ian could have just as easily called him brother,
they’d been that close.

That friend
was dead.

Ian was convinced
Miss
Hopkins and her father,
t
he Baron of Eberly
,
were the ones responsible
.
They would pay, those two
.
The baron’s markers
would be called in
, and his pampered daughter ruined
in the eyes of society
forever.

ANGELA ENTERED THE
parlor, greeting the woman she assumed was
the head housekeeper
.
“Good morning
,
a
re you Emma?”
she
inquired
politely.

The tall, thin woman approached
, a smile lighting her face. She took
Angela’s
hands into her own
, h
er brown eyes friendly as she spoke
in a soothing voice
.
“Yes, I’m
the head housekeeper
.
It’s so good to meet you, my dear
.
We’ve all heard so much about you already from your maid, Rosemary
, s
uch a sweet girl.”