Page 2 of Revealing a Rogue
The slight twitch of her fingertips was the only indication she wasn’t entirely unaffected by his presence. Her bright blue eyes stunned him again into silence. In the past, he would have claimed that a brief or a case fact waylaid his thoughts. Now, he had no such pretenses to justify his behavior. Landon was one hundred percent obsessed with the woman who refused to give in and answer his questions first. His heart stopped at a slight up-tilt of Bronwyn’s soft, kissable lips. Riveted by her alluring face…What were they discussing?
He gave his head a slight shake. He wasn’t ready to reveal the true purpose for his appearance, yet the challenge in her gaze confirmed Landon’s decision. Bronwyn was no blushing debutante seeking out a titled gentleman to care for her. No, Bronwyn could well fend for herself. While she may not need him, he needed her.
Bronwyn hadn’t moved or fidgeted under his intense scrutiny. He grinned, producing his dimple once more. Her eyes widened, but her lips thinned into a straight line.
For weeks he’d contemplated the risks of introducing a woman into the secret world of PORFs and the Network. He continued to ogle the woman who brazenly applied for the position of secretary and excelled in the role typically held by men. She was fearless. He had no doubts she would fully embrace and flourish in the clandestine role. Yes, Bronwyn would suit him well. The woman would not be swayed by a glare, nor a charming smile. Qualities she’d require as both countess and wife to the head PORF.
Needing to break the intangible pull of Bronwyn’s attention, Landon pushed off from the desk and strode over to the seat facing her. This woman challenged him in ways no other had. His brain normally overruled his physical desires without resistance. Mayhap Bronwyn’s intellectual appeal was the cause for his inability to control his bodily attraction to her. Hastily grabbing his coat and hat from the seat, he sat down and laid them over his lap to hide her obvious effect upon him. Landon adjusted his posture one last time and resumed observing the woman he hoped would accept his offer of marriage.
Her stare never faltered. The woman had worked alongside him for years. She was fully aware of his faults and weaknesses, especially his inability to back down from a challenge. The silence had become a test of wills. Who would give in and be the first to speak?
His brow creased as he struggled to recall a time when Bronwyn had ever conceded the argument during a debate or been the first to relent. Previously as lead barrister of the firm, Landon’s primary purpose was to represent clients. He had left the running of the office to his brother, who doggedly employed the best person suited for the position regardless of their sex or background, resulting in the Neale & Sons staff being a mixed bag of individuals. In the case of hiring Landon’s personal secretary, Christopher unconventionally hired a woman—Bronwyn.
He missed having a set routine. Pouring over case files, representing his clients in court, but most of all, debating with Bronwyn at length. She wasn’t intimidated by him and never complained of the hours he required her to spend at the firm. Landon's shoulders rolled slightly forward.Damnation.He had been a self-absorbed taskmaster. A quick self-assessment and Landon let out a low groan. His propensity to demand excellence had not diminished. If anything, after becoming an earl and head PORF, they had intensified.
Bronwyn's lips curved into a smirk, in effect declaring herself the winner as he had been the first to emit a sound.
She leaned forward. “How may I be of assistance to you, Lord Hadfield?”
He may have lost this round, but he wasn’t about to lose the next. “Tell me your surname.”
“Why?”
Since the day he recovered the rondure, deeming him head PORF, over six months ago, not a soul had dared to challenge him. With the exception of Theo and now the woman staring back at him.
Landon swallowed a groan returning his focus to the task at hand. “How else will I know who to ask for permission to marry you?”
Bronwyn jumped up from her seat. “Marry me?” A frown appeared on her features. She took a deep breath, and the deep creases in her brow disappeared. Leaning down, Bronwyn planted her palms on top of the desk. “I beg your pardon, Lord Hadfield. Are you attempting to propose?”
It was not the reaction Landon had hoped for. But her position over the table afforded him a lovely view of her chest, which mollified his agitation at her outburst and mocking tone. He shouldn’t be vexed. Her lack of fear and ability to take him to task were the reasons Landon wanted Bronwyn for his countess.
He tugged on his cravat and blundered on. “Yes, I wish for us to be wed by week’s end.” He had the special license. All he needed was her agreement.
Her eyes roamed over his features. She cocked her head inquisitively. “Lord Hadfield, are you unwell?”
“No. Why would you suggest I was?”
“Your cheeks are flushed, and you suggested the mad notion that you wish for us to wed.”
“It’s not an insane idea.”
Bronwyn rounded the desk to stand before him. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and then quickly removed it. “Well, you don’t have a fever.”
His skin might be cool to the touch, but his blood was a-boil after the barest graze of her hand. Wedging a finger under his cravat, he tugged hard. He’d roast like a pig if she were to trail her palms over his naked body.
She waved a hand in front of his face. Head cocked to one side, Bronwyn asked, “Did you experience a head injury recently? It might explain your absurd proposal.”
Perhaps from Bronwyn’s point of view, his unexpected reappearance and bungled opening statements would give her cause to question his well-being. “I can assure you I’m quite well. There is nothing wrong with my head nor my wish to wed…you.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “We haven’t spoken in over twenty-four months.”
It had actually been seven hundred and forty-one days. He had counted every single one since he last laid eyes on her.
Bronwyn drummed her fingers at her side. “You know nothing about me. Not even my surname.” She dropped her gaze to his chest. “I’m no fresh-faced lady looking for a husband, especially not to a titled gentleman such as yourself. I’m not even from a wealthy merchant family, and I’m not…”
Landon placed a finger over her soft lips. The touch was meant to simply silence her, but as soon as he came into contact with her smooth skin, his brain misfired, sending heated waves of desire through him.
Landon blurted, “Your surname. I’ll not ask again.” Desperation was causing him to behave like a boor, instead of executing his oft-practiced pleas for Bronwyn to marry him. He would apologize and attempt to persuade her with the arguments he’d originally crafted.
