Free The Secrets of a Scoundrel by Gaelen Foley Page A

uncertain terms last night that there would be no naughtiness between them.
    She wondered at how many women had wanted to strangle him over the years.
    “No, I—that is, we need to get our day started. Ahem.” She cleared her throat and looked around at the rocky protrusions of the cave walls. Anywhere but at him. “I hate to ruin your fun, but we’ve got work to do. We leave for Town this afternoon.”
    He heaved a great sigh. “As you wish, my lady.” Nick sank down into the water, disappearing, and then he stood up, visible to the waist. He brushed the water off his face, then squeezed it out of his slick hair, shrugging his broad shoulders, and flexing his neck from side to side.
    He let out a sigh of satisfaction: Gin could not take her eyes off him. The muscled elegance of his sculpted body filled her with raw yearning.
    He turned around and climbed, naked, out of the pool. Her pulse pounded, her mouth watering, as her stare slid down the strong, sweeping lines of his lower back to his taut buttocks and his lightly furred thighs.
    He grabbed a towel, dried himself a bit, then wrapped it around his waist, turning back to her. “I know I had some clothes on when I got here. Now where the devil did I . . . ?”
    “Here,” she meant to tell him, but her voice had disappeared.
    “Ah, there you are.” He approached his clothes, his body warm and glowing, a relaxed expression on his face that made him seem almost like another man entirely.
    He eyed her in amusement, as though well aware of her staring. His glance flicked to the riding crop in her hands. “Not sure I trust you with that thing.”
    “Don’t make me use it,” she shot back in a breathy tone, to her dismay. At least she had recovered her bravado in time to avoid making a complete cake of herself.
    He laughed softly and bent to pick up his clean linen drawers near her feet. He looked at her, then cast aside his towel, and stepped into them.
    Throbbing with his nearness, Gin bit her lower lip and dropped her gaze while he proceeded to dress, but she could feel him studying her. “Are you all right, my lady?”
    “Yes. Why?” She swallowed hard.
    “You look, I don’t know. Nervous.” She jumped slightly when he touched her face, wiping away a fleck of mud that her horse must have kicked up. “Something wrong?”
    I thought you betrayed me, her heart whispered. But outwardly, she managed a taut smile and shook her head. “Just eager to get on about our business.”
    He nodded. “I’ll be ready in a moment.”
    “I’ll wait outside.” If she stayed in here much longer, alone in the dark intimacy of the cave with him, she had a feeling they were both going to end up naked in that pool, and that was not allowed to happen.
    Somehow, she dragged herself back out to the threshold of the cave, savoring the bracing chill of the morning now. But as she waited for him, staring out at the gray drizzle of the day, she reminded herself once again that he was a spy—trained to manipulate, deceive, charm his targets into doing things that were not in their best interest.
    Which was all the more reason not to let him know the truth. That she had been incapable of loving her dead husband because he could never compare in her eyes to the breathtaking men who worked with her father.
    Men like Nick.
    And she knew perfectly well why Virgil had never wanted her to meet any of them. He had known what would happen. That she, passionate, rebellious, would fall desperately in love with one or the other of them, but that, given his warriors’ deadly obligations, it could only end for her in agonizing heartbreak.
    It might yet, she thought, as Nick sauntered out to join her near the cave’s mouth.
    As her gaze flicked over him, she could not help smiling a little. No cravat, no waistcoat, but at least he had his trousers and boots on; he was still tucking in his loose white shirt and pulling his black jacket on as he approached.
    “Nice piece of horseflesh,”