Free The Notorious Scoundrel by Alexandra Benedict Page A

might add.” She dropped the dirty towel into the basin, the water splashing. “I don’t owe you an explanation regarding my life or my choices.”
    She picked up the candlestick and glass orb, the flame flickering, and brushed past him into the other room.
    He followed her.
    “You have to quit the club, Amy.”
    She placed the candle on the table in the sitting room, fingers quivering. “No.”
    A strong hand grasped her wrist, and she pivoted.
    “You can’t work at the club anymore.” Hard, steely eyes pegged her. “It’s too dangerous.”
    Amy gazed into the dark pools, reflecting the glimmering light like mirrors. However, unlike the glass, she didn’t see herself cast back in the glossy orbs. Shelooked deep into the obdurate man’s soul and witnessed a bevy of emotions that both alarmed and strangely thrilled her. Being so close to Edward teased her senses, muddled her thoughts. Every word and breath was more acute, every touch more sensitive.
    “I can handle the situation at the club,” she insisted in a low voice.
    “You’ve been attacked twice in two nights.”
    The man’s sharp, warm breath stirred the fine hairs at her temples, making her shiver. “I was attacked once,” she clarified tersely. “I protected myself tonight.”
    She wriggled her wrist loose and stepped away from him, her heart thumping in her chest with greater vigor.
    “And who will protect you tomorrow night?” He glared at her. “There’s one lazy guard who can’t get off his arse and quit napping during the performances.”
    So that’s how Edward had finagled his way into the rear of the club, she mused.
    “I’ll protect myself,” she said with confidence.
    “Amy,” he drawled in a deadly tone, “the attackers have been offered one hundred pounds to kidnap you. I heard them before the door closed.”
    “I heard them, too,” she said indignantly. “I’m not deaf.”
    “Do you think such men will quit coming after you? Forfeit the fortune?”
    She gritted, “I can’t quit the club.”
    “It might be the queen who wants you dead.” Slowly he approached her. “She might have hired the attackersto kill you. The woman hates you, you know.”
    Amy snorted. “Madame Rafaramanjaka would never waste one hundred pounds on me. If she wanted me dead, she’d strangle me herself.”
    Amy stepped away from the nearing scoundrel. He roused her blood, her pulse in such an alarming manner, she felt safer at a distance from the brooding fellow.
    “Look,” he said more softly, stilling his steps. “I know you’re frightened about the unknown future, but you can’t risk your life at the club.”
    She shook her head vehemently.
    “You need to find another form of livelihood,” he persisted in an even voice.
    “No. No!” She skirted around the table to evade his darkening expression. “I refuse to live like one of them!” She pointed at the two opposite walls. “I refuse to be poor and desperate.”
    “Amy,” he said sharply, eyes aglow, “you have to be reasonable. You’re being hunted.”
    “I am being reasonable,” she retorted sourly. “As soon as my youth is gone, Madame Rafaramanjaka will dismiss me from the club and hire a replacement.” She jabbed her forefinger into her bust. “But I will have saved enough funds by then to live out the rest of my days in comfort.” She looked daggers at him. “What do you want me to do? Be a seamstress? A governess? I can’t even read! I’ll make a pittance each year toiling under some other ruthless employer. I make more than sixty pounds each annum working for the queen!”
    “You slave for the queen,” he corrected darkly. “And it isn’t worth your life.”
    “You want to see me living in the streets! How is that any better?”
    “I want to see you work in a less dangerous profession.”
    She scoffed and rubbed her hands together, pacing the room. “You want me to work under the direction of some other boor for a meager amount. And then, one day, when