Free Never Trust a Scoundrel by Gayle Callen

door and leaned her ear against it.
    It suddenly opened and she reeled forward, off-balance, right into the arms of Daniel Throckmorten.

Chapter 6
    D aniel hadn’t expected Grace to fall so easily into his arms, so warm and soft and wearing only a nightgown. The scent of lavender surrounded him. She gasped and struggled in a panic.
    â€œGrace,” he murmured against the hair at her temple.
    She stilled and gaped up at him, still caught so wonderfully to his chest.
    â€œDaniel?” she cried.
    â€œHush.” He pulled her inside and shut the door. “Are you allowing me to win so easily, fair Grace? This is like granting me a perfectly wrapped present.”
    With a flustered groan, she pushed against his chest, and he released her.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” she demanded. “You gave me back the key to the house!”
    â€œI was not so foolish as to give you the only key that I had.”
    She put her hands on her hips in anger, probably not realizing how delightfully her uncorsetedbreasts bounced. She likely wasn’t wearing drawers, and with just a flick of his wrist, it would be easy enough to see—
    â€œYou promised that we could live here, at least for the month,” she said angrily.
    It actually took time to formulate a simple response, as his brain only seemed able to dwell on how little she was wearing. “And you can. I just thought I’d bring over a few things I might need—a change of clothing, for instance.”
    Her eyebrows dropped in a ferocious frown that looked quite fetching on her.
    â€œAnd why would you need that?” she asked icily.
    â€œWell, when my seduction succeeds—”
    â€œ If. ”
    â€œâ€”then I need to be prepared. A gentleman cannot begin his day in wrinkled clothing. My valet would be appalled and worry that he would be blamed.”
    And Daniel hadn’t been able to forget about the man watching her house, but he wouldn’t say that aloud. He hadn’t thought about her alone with no servants for protection until just this evening, when he’d seen her brother gambling again. He’d remembered the bare state of the house that first night, no servants about to make it look lived in when no one was at home. It felt strange to be worried about a woman.
    He needed to distract her, so he reached around and caught her braid. “I like your hairstyle. I’ve never seen it on a fashionable lady before. You could make quite an entrance anywhere you went.”
    She tugged her hair, and he slowly let it go, a little bit at a time.
    â€œThis is the best way to keep my hair from tangling. You obviously do not have a sister. But you’ve had many mistresses, of course.”
    â€œAnd they kept their hair long and free, the way I like it.”
    He moved closer until she backed up against the door. He murmured, “I like the way a woman’s hair tangles about our bodies when we make love.”
    She ducked beneath his arm and retreated to the center of the room, her face flushed. “It sounds painful for the woman.”
    â€œNone have ever said so.”
    â€œThey needed your goodwill—and your money.”
    He moved toward her again, and she darted around the far side of the bed.
    â€œHow many mistresses have you had?” she said quickly, obviously trying to distract him.
    â€œA few.” He leaned against the bedpost, casually stroking the velvet bed curtains with long, smooth strokes.
    She watched his hands, her lips parted, her eyes wide. Then she swallowed and marshaled her determination.
    â€œAnd how long does a mistress linger in your good graces?”
    â€œAre you doing research?” he asked, lifting a brow.
    She blushed. “Just curious.”
    â€œI had my first mistress when I was nineteen.”
    â€œSo young!” she said in surprise.
    â€œIt lasted just six months—long enough to have me sent down from Cambridge in