Free A Rogue of My Own by Johanna Lindsey Page A

him.
    But his brow went up in surprise, then he grinned. “Did you really tell her that?”
    Since the only thing about him that seemed dangerous atthe moment was his seductive charm, she saw no reason to lie. “She makes it sound as if you and your friend are criminals. I prefer to judge for myself.”
    “I suppose you gave her my name though?”
    “When I didn’t believe the name you gave me?”
    “I appreciate your honesty, but what do you find wrong with my name?”
    She didn’t answer immediately. She asked instead, “Do you realize the sensation you cause?”
    She’d noticed how every eye in the room came back to him repeatedly. Men and women alike seemed fascinated by him. Some people were even tripping on the dance floor because they couldn’t take their eyes off him.
    “Do you really think I could miss it?” he replied drily.
    “Well, you see my point then?”
    “What point? Am I a mind reader now? Usually a point is made before it’s mentioned.”
    He was being facetious. Mere banter? She wasn’t adept at that, not in the least. The socializing she and her mother had done over the years hadn’t been with young men, and certainly not with prime seducers like her tarnished Angel. Besides, she preferred real conversation, not pointless repartee that went nowhere and revealed nothing.
    But she shrugged, allowing him his point. “I would have thought you’d have a more exotic name, one that matched the way you look.”
    He chuckled. “So now I’m exotic? I suppose that’s better than a hungry wolf.”
    She grinned as well. Maybe she could get used to bantering after all. He certainly made an excellent teacher.
    “It’s all a matter of perception, isn’t it?” she quipped.
    “Well, damn me, I find I must agree. You should stop surprising me. I’m becoming quite intrigued.”
    She finally blushed. He finally lost his jocular air and added, “Do you have anything else to impart about tonight’s debacle, before I proceed to my dire warnings?”
    She was given pause, not over the “warnings,” which she didn’t take seriously, but over the question. Was all the banter intended to lower her guard so she’d answer him by rote? She recalled what Evelyn had said about distracting someone prior to asking a serious question. How very spylike.
    But Rebecca had already concluded that Sarah Wheeler was the one in the wrong tonight. The lady had even admitted the task had been personal in nature, rather than political, so Rebecca saw no reason not to let him know how serious Sarah was about pursuing whatever it was she was after.
    “She thought I should woo you into removing the mask I told her you were wearing.”
    She’d managed to surprise him yet again, to go by his expression and the lambent look that entered his eyes. “That sounds entirely too interesting. You have my rapt attention. Woo away.”
    “I wouldn’t know how,” she admitted, lowering her head and suddenly feeling embarrassed.
    “Move a little closer, m’dear. I promise I’ll get the message.”
    Her head shot back up. “You’re entirely too bold, Rupert St. John.”
    “I know. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
    She rolled her eyes. She supposed this Rupert was much preferable to the dangerous one she’d briefly met in Nigel’s room. But which was the real St. John?
    Aware that the dance was going to end at any moment, she said, “Now it’s my turn. Are you really a spy?”
    “Good God, do you really think I’d say so if I was?” he replied, aghast, which was obviously feigned.
    “I thought we were being honest.”
    “No, you are being honest. I’m merely being delighted by it.”
    Rebecca gritted her teeth. He’d finally managed to provoke her ire with his evasiveness. She stopped dancing, pulled away from his hands, and walked away.
    But she heard him call softly after her, “Wait! You haven’t heard my dire warnings!”
    “Keep them,” she shot back. “I wouldn’t believe them anyway.”
    Did he have to