Free Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke by Suzanne Enoch

stable as he waited for Zeus to be saddled. The weather and the waiting for his other guests was setting him off kilter, he decided. Otherwise he couldn’t explain why he—a man of nine and twenty who had a great deal of experience with women—would be thinking still of a single bared shoulder. Its creamy paleness against a caress of fiery red hair, the twitch of his fingers as he’d wanted to peel the night rail from her skin.
    And why the devil shouldn’t he? Sophia wasn’t anyone’s wife, and she wasn’t some chit whose reputation … mattered. They were both adults, thrown together by circumstance, and she was damned attractive. And much wittier than he’d realized. That in itself raised her several steps above the majority of his mistresses. And she’d agreed to the wager of a kiss, and lost. It was hardly his fault if he knew the table better than she did.
    “Good morning officially,” her lilting voice came from the stable yard, and he looked up. And choked.
    “What—what are you wearing?” he managed.
    She smoothed her palms down her thighs. “It’s a footman’s uniform.”
    “Yes, I can see that.”
    He could see it, indeed. She’d donned a man’s shirt and waistcoat with a scarf rather than a cravat at the throat, knee-length black pantaloons and white stockings, and a pair of plain, black shoes. Sophia had even tied her long, curling scarlet hair back with a black ribbon. The effect was amusing and … arousing all at the same time. The carnal edge to his thoughts deepened. A chit in trousers. Good God.
    “I thought this would be warmer than a muslin gown.” She sent a smiling glance at Evans as the groom appeared with Zeus and a small chestnut mare in tow. “Evans. Might I borrow a coat and a spare pair of boots?” she asked brightly. “I don’t think footman’s shoes are appropriate for riding.”
    Sophia knew how to be proper, but mostly didn’t seem to bother with it. And those glimpses of humor and bawdiness peeked through her demeanor like rays of sunshine. That raised the question of how he’d missed it in their previous encounters. Yes, she’d been amusing and pretty, but the warmth and wittiness of her had completely eluded him. Or was it that she shone brighter in light of his own isolation?
    “Certainly, Miss Sophia. I’ll go fetch ’em.” The groom tied off the horses and trotted back into the stable without a backward glance at his employer.
    Hm. “I thought we might ride into Hanlith,” Adam decided. “There’s a seamstress there, and you could order some additional clothes if you wished.”
    Sophia nodded. “I could afford two muslins,” she agreed. “But as I lost one of my shoes in the river, I think that should be my priority. I can wear my gown home again, but I can’t very well ride in the mail coach barefoot.” She flashed her infectious grin. “It would be very cold.”
    That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She’d come to his home because of his invitation and lost her things as a direct consequence of that. He had the power to replace her wardrobe with an even prettier one, and she wouldn’t allow it. Her, saying no to him. And he already knew he would give in to her wishes—at least as far as she was aware. The seamstress in Hanlith was going to be very busy, regardless. As to how to get the gowns to Sophia in a manner she would find acceptable—well, he would manage that, as well.

 
    FOUR
    In front of them the riding trail undulated like a narrow white ribbon, disturbed at the edges by the shrubs and trees and rocks that stood taller than the recent snowfall.
    Sophia turned her head to look behind them. There the pathway was absolute carnage. She knew that only two horses and two pony-sized dogs had torn up the snow, but it might as well have been an entire brigade. “We wouldn’t be difficult to track, would we?” she said aloud.
    Beside her on a massive black thoroughbred named Zeus, Adam followed her gaze. “I daresay even blind