Free How to Marry a Rogue by Anna Small Page A

nothing but absolute perfection. And if there was a paramour, Miss Lockewood, this is less than suitable talk from one as young and innocent as you.”
    “When I am one and eighty, will you still consider me a little girl, I wonder?”
    “You will always be my friend’s little sister, dear Pudding Face.”
    His voice held a barely perceptible warning. She lay back on the pillows and snuggled beneath the quilt. “I should tell Jonathan you compromised me. That will be fine revenge for all the times you called me Pudding Face. He would be forced to call you out, and you will feel so guilty you’ll allow him to kill you.”
    He harrumphed loudly. “I can imagine that duel. He would talk me to death before I could get in the first blow.”
    “If you promise to take me somewhere tomorrow, I promise not to mention what happened tonight to my brother.”
    “That’s called blackmail.”
    She echoed his snort. “Call it what you will. I want to enjoy myself while I’m away from home. It’s my last chance.”
    “You’ve seen what trouble you’ve found in having so much fun, haven’t you?”
    “I will not be in trouble as long as you’re with me.”
    His laughter rang around the darkened chamber. “I will think of somewhere harmless to take you in the morning. There’s a bee farm nearby. Or perhaps we can stroll through a garden, if you promise not to disturb the butterflies, although I do fear for the safety of the roses. You might prick yourself on a thorn and bleed all over the place.”
    “I have never had a bad experience with a flower.”
    “Then I will ensure you have them in abundant supply while you’re here. Good night, Georgie. Pleasant dreams.”
    “I shall dream of you, Jack. My rescuer.” She’d spoken the words before she’d thought of them. He was quiet for a few seconds.
    “Throw in a few bottles of wine, and I’ll allow it.”
    “I shall also throw in a freshly starched cravat. Your linen is not very tidy.”
    He laughed again. “Perhaps I will dream about you, Georgiana.”
    She gasped with shocked amusement. “You are no gentleman, Jack Waverley.”
    “On the ship, you told me I was every inch the gentleman. How fickle is the mind of woman.”
    “So now you are admitting I’m not a child anymore.”
    “I admit no such thing.”
    The mattress sagged as she moved toward the edge. His outlined form on the settee was comforting in the darkness.
    “I’m glad you were there tonight.”
    The settee creaked beneath his weight as he made himself more comfortable. “You may thank me properly in the morning. I have no cook on Sundays, and prefer eggs and sausage. Toasted bread, as well.”
    She drew the quilt up to her neck. Already, the night’s frightening events had faded somewhat. She was safe now. Jack’s scent wafted from the sheets and pillow, enfolding her in a sea of musk and spice. His presence was like an invisible shield, protecting her.
    “Perhaps you are partly a gentleman.”
    He grunted. “I shall endeavor to become a full gentleman, if it pleases you.”
    She stroked the wrinkled linen pillowcase, imagining Jack’s golden hair fanned across it. Shaking her head at the alarming thought, she merely sighed.
    “Not a complete gentleman, please, Jack. I could not abide you too stuffy, like Jonathan.”
    “I am terribly unique, I admit.”
    He was trying to take her mind off her ordeal, and she smiled despite her troubled heart. “You are in a class all by yourself.”
    “As are you, Pudding Face. As are you.”

Chapter Nine
    Jack rubbed his neck as he dragged himself to a sitting position. How the devil had he not made it into his own bed the night before? He’d hardly touched a drop, yet here he was, clad in breeches, shirt, and stockings, with a perfectly good bed a few feet away.
    A perfectly good bed with a sleeping woman nestled among the covers.
    There could be only one reason a woman lay sleeping in his bed while he was on the settee.
    “Georgie! You lazy