Free The Rogue by Katharine Ashe

your prey simply men in general?”
    Her stomach twisted.
    â€œHow vastly amusing you are, sir,” she said lightly. “In refusing to teach children and women, do you hope to defend your sex from injury at the hands of your inferiors?”
    His sudden laughter was deep and warm. “If women are men’s inferiors, the moon is made of marzipan.”
    She smiled. “I suppose you are right about that.”
    Unfolding his arms, he again turned away.
    â€œDon’t leave today.” She stepped forward. “Lord Michaels and Mrs. Josephs have planned a game of charades for this evening. Dr. Shaw and his daughter as well. I would not want to disappoint them. Will you remain one more night?”
    â€œI’m not much for games,” he said.
    â€œI noticed the chessboard after you and my father played last night.” She took another step toward him. “He invited you to play to intimidate you into acquiescing.”
    â€œHe is a formidable opponent. But I am not easily intimidated.”
    â€œOh. I understand. You have now seen that I can be an apt pupil.” She gestured with her bow. “But pride will not allow you to recant your refusal to him.”
    â€œPride has nothing to do with it.”
    â€œGive me a chance, an audition, as it were. My father needn’t even know. Meet me in the ballroom tomorrow at dawn before all arise. I will show you that I can apply myself to learning how to wield a dagger with cool dispassion worthy of any man.”
    â€œNo, I don’t think I will,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve met you at dawn before, and it ended poorly for me. I have no wish to repeat the experience.”
    Her heart tumbled over. “You admit to it?”
    â€œIt?”
    â€œThe past. Our past.”
    â€œWhy not? I haven’t suffered amnesia or any other unlikely fate that wipes memory clean or makes a man deny history.”
    â€œI thought you meant to pretend amnesia. Since yesterday you have behaved to me like a stranger.”
    â€œWe are strangers.”
    This was not true. From the moment they met he had never seemed like a stranger to her. Alien in his unfamiliar masculinity, yes—but never a stranger. Swiftly and naturally he had taken pleasure in her company as no one else ever had. And like no other person alive, he had spoken with her like an equal. A friend. She’d gotten drunk on him, and she had believed that perhaps he had been a little drunk on her too.
    â€œI’d thought you craven,” she said.
    â€œMerely courteous in not wishing to expose you.” Hand on the hilt of his sword, with a gleam in his eyes he bowed. “My lady.”
    My lady. Six years ago he had thought her an upper servant, perhaps a lady’s maid. But he had called her his lady and promised to be her champion, her protector, her blade to wield as she wished. The moment he discovered her name, that she was a noblewoman, that she had allowed him to believe otherwise, the ardor in his eyes had died.
    Now he made light of it.
    â€œMockery is not courteous,” she said.
    â€œTrue,” he admitted. “How deplorably unlike a chevalier I have turned out to be.” He cocked a half smile. “Despite my vow.”
    There was such a foolish ache in her chest that she wanted to curl her fist into it and press it away.
    â€œIt ended as I warned you it would,” she said.
    â€œGiven the encouragement you offered me, I would have been one man in ten thousand to believe that warning.”
    â€œI was very clear.”
    â€œAn unwise man hangs hopes on gossamer thread.”
    Just as then, when he had spoken to her like this, directly, honestly, she wanted to be close to him. But she was no longer a girl. She had learned about men since then. Now she needed him for one purpose.
    Ignoring her spinning nerves, she went forward until she stood before him.
    â€œDo a woman’s words have no weight to