Free Never Seduce A Scoundrel by Heather Grothaus

that John Grey would attempt to further compromise her already secretly battered reputation.
    Which brought her thoughts, inexplicably, back to Oliver Bellecote.
    Whenever you’re near to me ... I’m not quite sane.
    I simply cannot stop thinking of you.
    This has never happened to me before.
    The greatest scoundrel in all the land, and he was preoccupied with thoughts of Saint Cecily.
    Oliver was waiting for her at Fallstowe. As weak as it sounded, she knew she could not withstand his advances. It did not ease her mind that he had disavowed any intention of making Joan Barleg his wife; in truth, that only made things worse. It clearly showed that Oliver Bellecote would go to any length for a conquest. Would stoop to whatever depth necessary to maintain his scoundrel’s reputation. He had admitted that he possessed no desire to wed Joan, or Cecily, or any other woman. Cecily could not allow him to make such a fool out of her. Or her to make such a fool of herself.
    Perhaps if she did not return to Fallstowe, Oliver Bellecote would then go, taking her shame and weakness with him. Cecily could only hope that he would not also take her heart when he left. It was the only thing she had left that truly belonged to her, now that he had taken her body. The only thing she had left which could still be given away with forethought and intent.
    John Grey glowed in the bright afternoon sun, his straight hair glinting with the beams of light that seemed attracted to him. She was reminded suddenly of the tender way in which he had held the newborn peasant babe.
    A handsome man.
    A titled man.
    A man who had himself said that one needn’t take vows to be of service to God. He was convincing.
    He was not betrothed.
    The man was as far removed from a scoundrel as could be, and Cecily knew she was safe in his presence. Even from herself.
    Cecily looked to Father Perry. “Would you give Lady Sybilla a message for me?”

Chapter 14
    Oliver could not recall a time when he had been more cross.
    He was seated at Sybilla’s table for supper again, but this time he sat to the woman’s left, in the chair that Cecily had occupied only last night. Thankfully, Joan Barleg was seated on the other side of the Foxe matriarch, leaving Oliver to concentrate on pretending to eat his food.
    Why had she not yet returned?
    Oliver had been completely befuddled by Cecily’s disgust of him before she’d abruptly left Fallstowe with the old priest, but he was determined that she should have no doubt of his intentions toward her. He wanted her—only her. And he was willing to go to whatever lengths she determined to be necessary to win her. Once that was established, they would go to Sybilla together and Sybilla could detail her insane theories to Cecily herself.
    It made little sense still to Oliver. But Sybilla had sworn that the thing she asked of him was somehow tied to the plan his brother had instigated to help Sybilla Foxe retain Fallstowe, and she had promised to pay him handsomely for his cooperation. Oliver was certain that, once Sybilla explained it all, Cecily would understand. Oliver wanted Cecily ... he only needed to become betrothed to another woman, first.
    Perfectly reasonable.
    He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the women to his right continued to chat about the stupid sliver of rock Sybilla had given Joan last night.
    “Think you I placed it too far from my head?” Joan whined.
    Sybilla shrugged and swirled the contents of her chalice. “Perhaps, since you slept so very poorly. You may do well to sleep with it.”
    “You mean hold it in my hand or something of that sort?”
    “There’s an idea,” Sybilla mused, and then took a sip of her wine.
    Joan nodded decisively. “I shall try that then tonight. I am certain that it should work. Something so beautiful must be powerful, wouldn’t you agree?”
    “Completely,” Sybilla said mildly.
    Oliver was in the process of rolling his eyes when he caught sight of the slender old