Free The Rogue by Arpan B

be trusted with the truth. She would pin him down
directly after supper.

Chapter
Seven
    « ^ »

    Once
the ladies had left the dining room, Ethan made his escape into the
hall, past a footman who stood guard against interruption, and around
the corner. If he could just make it out of this madhouse, he would
go back to the Liar's Club and tell Lord Overbearing that he could
take his little spy ring and—
    "Mr.
Damont, I wish to speak to you."
    Ethan
nearly jumped out of his skin when the girl popped up from nowhere.
"Good God, my lady!" He clapped a hand over his heart, not
actually pretending. "Have pity, if you please!" He blinked
at her, then dropped his charm like a hot rock. "Oh, it's you,"
he said dismissively.
    Lady
Jane drew herself up. "I do not see why you are so testy yet. I
had a perfectly reasonable explanation for my actions. I needed to
ascertain whether or not you could be trusted."
    Ethan
regarded her hotly. "And the verdict?"
    Jane
clasped both hands before her. "I found you charming and kind.
Pity that I turned out to be so very wrong."
    "Hmph."
Ethan could not help feeling gratified that she had liked him. He had
liked her as well, until—
    "What
do you mean, you were so very wrong?"
    Jane
fought back a smile. She'd certainly managed to get his attention.
"Oh, very well. I suppose I wasn't so much wrong as I was…
misled."
    "Misled!"
    She
spread both hands against his outrage. "Truce! I shall admit it,
I was not wrong." She dropped her hands and gave him a slight
smile. "Why is that you take no affront when someone accuses you
of cheating at cards, yet you took great offense when I said you were
not charming?"
    Ethan
folded his arms defensively. "Well, I… I put a great deal
of effort into being charming…"
    Jane
tilted her head. "And less into resisting the impulse to cheat?"
    "What?
No, I mean— Damn it, you are twisting my words about!"
    Jane
nodded. "I am. I don't know why. You seem to bring out the devil
in me."
    Ethan
laughed out loud, a swift bark of surprise. "You and the devil
have not the slightest acquaintance, I'm sure."
    "Why
not? Did you not earlier accuse me of lying?"
    "That
wasn't lying. That was a mere sin of omission." He grinned at
her and she couldn't help but smile back.
    Then
Lady Jane folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you
talk to me during dinner? It was very rude of you to ignore me."
    Ethan
couldn't answer that one, since he hadn't ignored her at all. He'd
been exquisitely aware of her every movement, her every
breath—especially the way said breaths caused her bodice to
tighten over her succulent breasts.
    He
abruptly wished he could smack himself on the head. How could he be
so entranced by the mere act of inhaling and exhaling? It was only
breathing, for pity's sake! Yet somehow when she did it, he was
captivated.
    Jane
took a deep breath, then halted when Mr. Damont let out a heartfelt
moan. "What is it? Are you ill?"
    "Yes,"
he said faintly. "I am evidently a very sick man."
    She
leaned closer and peered into his face. His eyes widened in something
that might almost be called fear, then shut tightly.
    "Only
breathing, only breathing…" he seemed to be muttering
over and over. He backed away, still blind. Jane grabbed his arm
before he could collide with a marble-topped hall table that
contained a fine Chinese vase she was fairly sure was older than
England itself. She gave Mr. Damont a sturdy yank to pull him back
from danger.
    He
stumbled, coming up against her, chest to breast. Jane froze in
surprise at first, then forced herself to stand still. For some
reason, she found herself quite desperate to get Mr. Damont to truly
look
at her, the way he had outside. Perhaps being entirely without
propriety would get his attention.
    He
was holding himself quite immobile as well. Then slowly, with an air
of quiet purpose, he inhaled deeply. The act brought his hard chest
more firmly against her. With a mixture of shame and exhilaration,
Jane felt her nipples