Page 28 of Seducing the Knave

Closing her eyes again, she refused to allow herself to get caught up in thoughts of his muscled form, no matter how intriguing the subject might be.

But after several dozen attempts to chase him from her mind, she gave up.

He was disturbingly fascinating, after all.

Unabashedly roguish and ridiculously handsome, he had a brazen, irreverent manner that frustratingly seemed to add to his charm rather than diminish it. But there was also something else beneath that bold grin he employed with annoying frequency. She’d only caught very brief glimpses of it, but it was there.

A hardness. A sort of quiet threat.

She sensed he had a bit of a cruel streak inside him.

Although she hoped never to inspire a more significant glimpse of that simmering threat, she wasn’t particularly frightened of it. A bit uneasy, perhaps. And possibly even a little curious. But not frightened.

And she had no idea why.

“Get some sleep,” he suddenly muttered into the darkness. The mattress bounced as he shifted position behind her. “Morning’ll come quickly.”

“How did you know I was still awake?”

“Ye’re stiff as a corpse, luv. Relax. I said I won’t ravish ye. Tonight,” he added with unmistakable amusement in his sleepy voice.

She gave a short little humph and tried to relax.

A seemingly impossible task considering she’d never in her life slept beside anyone, and the first time she did so, it was with a man who took inordinate pleasure in teasing her about begging him to ravish her.

Ha! Lady Elvina Fowler did not beg.

Elle, she reminded herself forcefully. Elle did not beg, either.

#

HE KNEW THE MOMENT she fell asleep.

She released a slow sigh that seemed to soften the entire room. It didn’t take as long as he thought it would. Somehow, she’d convinced herself he wasn’t a danger to her.

He didn’t know if he should be pleased, insulted, amused, or annoyed.

There wasn’t a single soul in St. Giles or the East End who didn’t know Max Owen was very dangerous indeed. He’d spent the last fifteen years of his life making damned sure of it. In London’s roughest neighborhoods, he’d risked life and limb to garner a reputation for being charismatic and clever in addition to being exacting, fearless, and volatile. He liked it that way. He preferred it when people didn’t know what to expect of him. As soon as someone thought they had him figured out, he made sure to prove they absolutely didn’t.

The method had proven effective and was perhaps even more necessary now that Gill Rook was back.

It had been six years since Max’s longtime rival had last plotted against him. When the plan to have Max hung for a murder he didn’t commit had failed, Max wouldn’t have been faulted for having Gill tossed into the Thames. But the bonds of a childhood spent running the streets together had meant something to Max so he’d exiled his old friend instead, making it clear there would be severe consequences if the man didn’t keep his distance.

In the years that had followed, Max had only heard occasional whispers of Gill popping up here and there around the East End. At one point, it was being said that Gill had joined up with a violent pimp in Covent Garden known as Gregor Dune, but shortly after, Gill seemed to have disappeared from London altogether.

Until a few months ago when new rumors had begun to swirl.

Max had always suspected Gill was just lying low somewhere, waiting for another chance to strike, and it seemed he was right.

The urgent message he’d received during Caillie’s party last night suggested Gill was definitely up to his old tricks. His sister hadn’t been pleased by his abrupt departure, but it was mainly because he hadn’t been able to offer an explanation to satisfy her. Caillie—not unlike his traveling companion—had a tendency to get what she wanted regardless of consequence.

With a heavy exhale, Max forced himself to relax and claim the limited bit of rest he expected this night. But he suspected it was going to be a difficult task.

He’d never in his life had a woman actually sleep in his bed, let alone one with the kind of sultry innocence this one embodied so effortlessly.

If he’d thought riding hours in the carriage while she’d cuddled against him had been torturous, he suspected the sensual temptation and denial he’d be enduring tonight would prove to be beyond anything he’d experienced before.

And he was oddly looking forward to it.

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