Free To Wed a Wicked Earl by Olivia Parker Page A

tonight?”
    “A-Absolutely not. We are friends. We have no romantic interest in each other.” Lord knew she had put herself in his path in the past numerous times…and came away with rather humbling results. She had known him since her debut. And for the past three months as his friend, he had not raised a finger even in the general direction of a possible seduction. She knew how he worked. When Rothbury wanted something—or someone—he struck like a viper; he did not hesitate.
    “And besides,” she added, “after you so stubbornly refused to answer my letters, I had no choice but to come here to speak with you. You very well know a lady cannot call upon a man alone, night or day.”
    “Have you no care for your reputation, then?”
    “Twas why I thought to meet at night. It was the surest way to come and go undetected.” Never mind the fact that the Greenes lived just around the corner. Her presence here tonight had not required a detailed mode of operation worthy of a naval captain. She hadn’t even needed to hire a hack.
    “And what of your mother and father should they wake to find you gone?”
    “That’s the benefit of having elderly parents. They sleep often and quite soundly.”
    “No thought to your safety?” With his free hand, he reached out to let loose a lock of hair that had coiled around her bonnet ribbon.
    She batted his hand away. “I’m not a sap skull,” she muttered, gesturing to the open window with a nod of her head. “I brought Ne—…I-I brought George.”
    “And he is…”
    “Our burliest footman.”
    He turned his attention away from her to look out the window. And thank goodness for that. A lady could only take so much of Rothbury’s undivided attention. Not to mention the fact that she was suddenly startlingly aware that he wore nothing but a sheet and was slowly inching his way closer to her. She tried to think of inane subjects to keep her mind from wondering what was under that sheet. Gardening. Yes, she liked to garden. Peonies, lily of the valley, chrysanthemums…
    “Charlotte,” he intoned, swinging those eyes back on her. “What you have down there is a chub by kitchen maid wearing a footman’s costume.”
    She blinked and for a moment she was at a loss for words. “You have the eyes of a hawk,” she admitted, astonished.
    “I’ve been told.”
    “Despite what you might be thinking, Nelly is quite protective.” He took another step closer to her. He smelled warm and clean and faintly like brandy. Her nerves taking a quick downward spin, she made to slide her foot back in retreat once again, but her heel met the wall with a clunk. “S-She can fight just as well as any man, maybe better,” she blurted, nodding like a ninny when he lifted one tawny brow in question.
    “Indeed,” she went on, nodding. “Once, we had a thief trying to break in through the kitchen door. She waited in the shadows until he stepped inside, then clubbed him on the head with a leg of beef. Knocked him out cold, I’m proud to say.” Lord, if she could only stop babbling.
    “But your Nelly is all the way down there,” he smoothly pointed out, his eyes briefly dipping, giving Charlotte’s flushed figure a quick perusal. “What of the mischief that could happen right here…with me?”
    She wanted to match his mood, show him she could be cool and unaffected by his nearness, unlike every other female in his company. Moreover, she knew he was only toying with her, which made her just a tad annoyed. However, that bit of annoyance gave her strength.
    Thinking she could act just as smooth, she flicked her gaze downward, too. Straight away, her eyes seemed to lock upon his large, tan fist, which held the sheet tightly at his sculpted waist. Her face inflamed with her stubborn blush, so she forced her gaze back to his angular, beautiful face.
    “How would you protect yourself?” he asked, smiling in such a way that she was sure he could read her mind.
    “Well, I suppose if there