Free That Despicable Rogue by Virginia Heath Page B

father had been a selfish, devious and nasty human being who had not given one whit for anybody else—even his own children. The man had lived solely for his own pleasure.
    Much as his blasted housekeeper had just accused him of doing just now.
    Ross was still smarting when he reached his bedchamber. Perhaps he should start behaving like the libertine she clearly believed him to be? She had already found him guilty of the charge. It would serve her right to find out what it would be like if she had been employed by a lecher. If nothing else it would be amusing.
    And pleasant. She was such a pretty thing—if you ignored her belligerent personality—and he had not engaged in anything more than a little mild flirting in weeks. Maybe he should have a little fun at her expense? It might teach the wench a lesson.
    As soon as the thought took hold Ross could not stop it. He stalked over to the brandy decanter that stood on a little side table near his bed and poured some of the amber liquid into his hands. Then he patted it liberally around his neck like cologne. If she thought him a drunk then he might as well be one.
    He quickly pulled off his shirt and mussed his hair with his fingers. She would certainly disapprove of the sight of his bare chest as well. She had before—although she had also had a good look, he remembered with satisfaction. Prim had liked the sight of him half naked.
    A quick check of his reflection in the mirror made him smile. He looked positively rogue-like and totally disreputable. Even his head was not giving him as much grief now that it was occupied with something else. Poor old Prim was in for a bit of a shock.
    * * *
    Hannah balanced the tea tray on one hand and knocked quietly on his bedroom door. With any luck he had already fallen fast asleep.
    ‘Come in.’
    His deep voice sounded a little muffled, and as soon as she gingerly opened the door she could see why. He was face-down on his bed, bare arms flung carelessly above his head on the pillow.
    ‘I have your tea, Mr Jameson.’ She deposited the tray on the table smartly and turned to leave.
    ‘Could you pour me a cup, Prim, and bring it here?’
    He did not even raise his head from the pillow, so she doubted he would actually even drink it. Hannah rolled her eyes in annoyance and stalked back to the tray. Not caring whether or not it bothered him, she noisily poured him a cup of tea, heaped in three sugars and stirred it furiously before plonking it unceremoniously on the bedside table.
    ‘Your tea, sir,’ she said snippily, but before she could walk away he rolled over and grabbed her arm.
    ‘Why don’t you like me, Prim?’ he slurred as he rose to a sitting position.
    The dim candlelight made his bare skin glow golden and emphasised the powerful corded muscles in his arms and across his broad shoulders.
    ‘It is not my place to either like or dislike you, sir,’ she replied carefully, while trying to extricate her wrist from his firm hold and not look at his distracting body.
    Up close, she could see the dark stubble on his chin. She should have found it unappealing—further evidence of his dissipation—but bizarrely it suited him. Hannah started to feel a little warm and off-kilter when she should have been outraged.
    He laughed with drunken derision and leaned a little closer towards her, as if about to impart some great secret. ‘Come now, Prim, we both know that you are lying—although I have to say you are quite dreadful at it. If you did not dislike me so intently then you would be much... friendlier .’
    His dark gaze held hers. There was no mistaking his meaning, especially when his thumb began to caress the sensitive skin on the underside of her trapped wrist—something that made the nerve-endings in her arm tingle with awareness. She forced her mind to be angry. The wretch was flirting with her. Shamelessly. Even drunk he was trying to manipulate her own body into betraying her.
    ‘If that is all, sir, then I should