Free The Infamous Rogue by Alexandra Benedict

she paused beside the bank to enjoy the brisker air.
The glassy ripples looked so tempting; her sweaty toes twitched.
Sophia dropped the parasol. She crouched to peel away the laces before she slipped off her leather shoes. Mindful she was alone, she rolled down her white silk stockings and set them aside, too.
The cool grass between her toes was already a welcome treat, but she wanted a deeper soak. She lifted her skirts and tucked the fabric against her midriff to prevent the grass from smearing the soft, white fabric. With a hearty sigh, she settled beside the water and dipped her feet into the refreshing pool.
The water rushed over her ankles and calves, washing away the late summer heat, the irritation. For a quiet moment the world righted itself, and she flicked her toes, splashing spray.
The fine hairs on the back of her head slowly spiked. A shiver touched her spine as a pair of eyes summoned all her senses to obey.
Black Hawk!
Stay calm, she thought. Ignore the barbarian.
But she couldn’t dismiss James’s sharp stare piercing her spine. She had always been able to detect his eyes on her. She remembered tending to the orchids near their plantation house, and pausing because she had sensed him watching her. There had been nothing to indicate he had entered the garden: no sound or movement. And yet she had known he was there, silently observing her.
Sophia opened her watery eyes. She hadn’t even realized she had closed them at the haunting reflection. It took her a moment to remember she wasn’t in Jamaica anymore, but in England.
She steadied her uneven breathing. She tried to quiet her thoughts, too. Silence her thrumming senses. But the wicked corsair wasn’t lifting his eyes from her. She didn’t turn around to greet him. She refused to acknowledge him.
He was admiring her neck, she could tell. A sharp sensation at the base of her head pulsed. Was he thinking of ways to throttle her?…Was he thinking about the plantation house, as she was?
She removed a kerchief from her reticule, dabbing at the moisture across her brow and chin. The balmy climate mixed with the bounder’s sultry gaze made Sophia faint. She took in a few measured breaths to clear her woozy mind, but she wasn’t accustomed to the tight corset or the layers of linen in the hot summer weather. In the tropics she would wear loose attire, and less of it. But in England she had to endure the proper manner of dress at all times.
Again the fine hairs behind her ears stirred; he beckoned her. She took one wary peek before she smothered her inhibition and looked over her shoulder.
He was leaning against a tree. He had his arms folded across his strapping chest. Ankles crossed, the ball of his foot was braced against the sturdy bark. He was dashing in a form-fitted ensemble: soft brown breeches and a bronze waistcoat. The gold buttons across his chest neatly trimmed his well-manicured appearance. And with his unruly mane fastened in a queue, she could see every bit of his hard and masculine features.
He pushed away from the tree with his boot and slowly approached her. Her heart fluttered at the smoldering look in his deep blue eyes. The man’s steady advance confused her senses. She wanted to dash back to the picnic grounds, to surround herself with the cold, strict rules of high society. The posh world wasn’t a threat to her sensibilities. Yet another part of her was transfixed by the approaching pirate lord—and the wild cravings he stirred in the deepest part of her soul.
“You look warm, sweetheart.” He settled beside her, thick legs raised, arms folded across his knees. “I think you’re overdressed.”
The stiffness in her muscles returned. The deep desire to strip away the layers of linen suffocating her was profound, alarmingly so. And the more James stared at her, the more the briny drops gathered and doused her burning flesh.
“I’m very comfortable,” she said tersely. “What do you want, Black Hawk?”
“Do I disturb