Free The Rogue by Arpan B Page A

harden within her bodice. Could he feel it?
    His
gaze, which had shot off to one side when they impacted, slid slowly
back down to where their bodies met. Dizzy with her own lack of
breath, Jane inhaled as well.
    Ethan's
mind went entirely blank when he saw her creamy breasts swell against
his chest. Then the blood rushed from his brain completely,
apparently needed by other portions of his anatomy as he felt the
jewel points of her nipples boring through his waistcoat. One would
have thought the layers of fine silk and linen would have fended her
arousal off, but no. The fact was undeniable.
    Lady
Jane Pennington possessed a burning desire for him, Ethan Damont.
    Bloody
hell. With a graceless nod and an unintelligible mumble, Ethan ran
for the card room where the other gentlemen waited.
    There
was safety in numbers, after all. Ethan was feeling the need for a
bit of safety from the audacious Lady Jane Pennington.
    He'd
wriggle his way out of this "mission" later.
     
    Jane
knew her uncle would be occupied with his card game after supper. All
the men had left and the women—mostly Lady Maywell and the Mob,
since inviting women to supper would only defeat the purpose—had
retired to the drawing room and were listening to each other play and
sing, or perhaps playing a few hands of cards themselves.
    Jane
begged off, claiming the headache—which wasn't far from the
truth. Something was pounding indeed.
    Mr.
Damont had run from her as if she'd suddenly sprouted horns, leaving
her standing oddly bereft and slightly chilled in the hall.
    What
a strange, tense moment that had been. She'd never been so close to a
man, standing chest to breast that way…
    She
pressed a hand to her flushed face. She should be very much shamed by
her own behavior. She wasn't. Stimulated, perhaps, and a good bit
disturbed, but there didn't seem be a hit of shame in the mix. It
seemed she had little of that organ left.
    Her
obvious flush helped her case, fortunately. Her harried aunt only
nodded assent, looking slightly envious as she did so. Jane tried to
cover her story as well as possible when she went to her room, even
by sending the maid for a cool cloth and then telling her she didn't
want to be disturbed.
    She
mussed the bed artistically and even donned her own night rail and
wrapper, so that if she was caught she could say she was looking for
something to read herself to sleep.
    Then,
when she was sure that the entire household was occupied elsewhere,
Jane made her way to the seldom-used wing of the house. The room
where she'd seen the glimmer of candlelight was here.
    One
by one, she entered each south-facing room and counted the windows.
This wing was not kept well heated and Jane was glad for her thick
brocade wrapper. The first room was an unused chamber that looked as
though it had been meant for a music room. The second was smaller and
more charming, reminding Jane of her mother's morning room where her
mother had done the menus and her correspondence. Each of these had
two tall windows to the south, so the next room must be the one, just
as she'd thought.
    The
door to the next room was locked. Jane pondered the lock for a long
moment. She'd heard of picking a lock with a hairpin, but that was a
skill she'd never acquired.
    Lady
Maywell kept a key ring, as did the housekeeper and the butler. Jane
dared not venture belowstairs for fear of being caught far out of her
place, but Lady Maywell's bedchamber was not far from her own.
Padding as swiftly and silently through the halls as she could, Jane
paused outside her aunt's door. If her aunt's maid was present, Jane
would have to come up with some pretense for entering, a pretense
that might come unraveled later.
    Still,
faint heart never won piddle-squat. Taking a deep breath, Jane
pressed open her aunt's door.
    There
was no one within. If she hurried, she ought to be able to use the
key and get the key ring back to her aunt before anyone saw it was
missing.
    Jane
turned and left the room,