Free The Rogue and I by Eva Devon Page A

the mask.”
    “How perfect. Just what I had in mind.”
    “My darlings!” Uncle George entered with Meredith on his black clad arm, the girl in a gorgeous, green silk gown, no doubt some viney homage to Eve. After all, she had a ripe apple tied to her wrist.
    Uncle George, maskless as of yet, took one look at Harry and rolled his eyes. “Really, my dear. You do know how to try this old man.”
    Harry laughed gaily. Her uncle had been the dearest of souls. One of the only people who knew the events around herself and Lord Garret. She quickly crossed to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “If I did not, you should be very bored indeed.”
    He harrumphed. “Now, we must all be very nice to Mr. John Forthryte’s friends.”
    “He is such a foul fellow!” proclaimed Harriet. “My goodness, if he had been any more sweet at supper we should have had to add him to the rather biting lemon tart.”
    Her cousins and uncle chortled. She linked arms with him and Emmaline, the four of them beginning to make their way to the ball already completely underway. The sounds of laughter, dancing feet, and the orchestra filled the hall.
    Harriet glanced at her uncle. “You are far too kind. I swear that man and his friends have such a horrid temper about them that I suffered from heartburn the whole night until just now.”
    Emmaline tapped her with her fan. “He is worse than Lord Garret then?”
    “What? Why, no one could be worse than him. Perhaps the two are perfectly suited to each other. One surly fellow and one vacuous fool. Yes,” she said, pleased with her own plans. “They should do well together.”
    “So, my dear, if they were combined, might they form the perfect man?” her uncle inquired.
    “Why Uncle,” she teased. “Didn’t you know, the perfect man is a myth professed by all mothers in an attempt to convince their daughters to find him? I think it more likely we should find a unicorn before we find a perfect man.”
    Her uncle let out a soft guffaw. “I certainly never shall marry you off, wicked girl that you are. So, whatever shall I do with you?”
    “Oh, you shall let me make your tea, bring you hot water bottles in your old age, and keep you hopping with what I shall do next.”
    “But have you no desire for a man?” piped Meredith, making it clear that she couldn’t wait to find one of her own.
    “Why, I think there is no man for me,” she replied.
    “There you are!” called a deep, male voice. Usually, it was impossible to be sure of masked revelers’ identities, but Harry was fairly certain of his.
    The tall, dark-haired fellow strode towards her, his black evening coat cut to perfection over his ivory and gold waistcoat. A simple, black mask rested across the upper half of his face and he had slicked his hair back. The man looked very devilish indeed. He held out his white gloved hand and bowed beautifully. “You madam, are mine.”
    Harry paused. Those words. Those words echoed like thunder in her head. A momentary temptation to turn and run fluttered through her. But she would not be swayed. She took his hand firmly and smirked. “No sir, I believe you are mine .”
    Chapter 9
    The minuet was a mistake. A damn, blasted mistake. Garret took her hands with his and began the intricate steps that fairly ensured that she would be in his company alone for the next odd moments.
    “I wonder, sir, if we have any similar acquaintance?” she piped, brightly above the sugary tones of the immense and overly-dressed orchestra.
    At least, he thought it was brightly. He was having trouble tearing his damned gaze away from her physique let alone listen to the actual words coming from her slightly painted mouth. Her skin was ivory, so white, so untouchable.
    Once, he had touched it. It had been nearly as familiar as his own skin. Perhaps even more so. God, how he’d adored it. His mouth had kissed the valley between her breasts. He knew the color of her nipples. Were they still petal, nearly