Free Angelina by Janet Woods

mistress, sir?”
    “No, damn it! She’s a maid of barely eighteen years, and I intend to wed her.”
     “Her name?”
    “Lady Rosabelle Wrey.” The Marquis’s face burned when the highwayman gave a high-pitched laugh.
    “Perhaps this bauble will tip the scales in your direction, but I doubt it.” The outlaw threw the pendant back. “Lady Rosabelle will keep you dancing attendance on her only while it pleases her.” 
    “I’ll thank you not to speak of the lady thus,” George growled.
    “Take my word for it, she will be hard to catch.” He wheeled the stallion around. “Word has it that she’s set her sights on the Earl of Lynnbury.”
    “Rafe Daventry hasn’t a penny to his name,” the Marquis sneered. “Nor ever will have.”
    “I’ve heard the earl is sought after by the ladies and his prowess in the bed-chamber is equalled only by his discretion in matters of love.”
    “I’m not without expertise in that area myself,” the Marquis muttered. “And her dowry will not be enough to catch the earl.”
    “One hears Lady Rosabelle has lost her heart to the earl. And it’s said he is not immune to her charms.’ 
    “The devil take him!” George said. “That snippet of information is worth the loss of my purse. I’m indebted to you.”
    “Glad to be of service, My Lord.” The highwayman gave a mocking half-bow before touching heels to his mount and melting into the darkness of the undergrowth.
    “Rum fellow,” George muttered to himself, and his brow furrowed in thought. He’d been well spoken for a felon, and young from the pitch of his voice. He knew the forest well, and the local gossip.
    His nerve ends twitched when an owl hooted nearby. A mist rose from the ground, darkness pressed in on him. Picking his goods up from the dirt, he set off after his horse at as brisk a pace as he could muster.
     

Chapter Six
     
    “James, you must come and help us decide.” Angelina started when Rafe Daventry uncoiled from the chair nearest to her.
    “Oh!” She cursed the colour that suddenly bloomed in her cheeks. “I didn’t realise you had company. Please forgive the intrusion, My Lord.”
    Rafe’s sardonic good looks relegated anything else to the shadows. She’d forgotten how large he was, how dark, how powerful of body and feature. Most of all she’d forgotten his grace, until he covered the space between them in two lithe strides.
    He took her hand to lightly brush his lips across her fingers. “I thought we agreed you would call me Rafe the last time we met. You’re looking well, little Angelina. Having James for a brother obviously suits you.”
    “James is kindness itself.” The pressure of Rafe’s fingers stopped her from sliding her hand from his. She darted James a nervous glance. He was smiling, seemingly not at all bothered by the small impropriety. She gave him a loving smile. “In truth, James spoils me.”
    “Beautiful women are meant to be spoiled.” With every show of reluctance, Rafe allowed her to slide her hand away. “What would men do without ladies to spoil?”
    “I hope you do not expect me to seriously apply myself to that question?”
    Rafe’s grin had a mischievous edge to it. “I’d be curious to hear your opinion of men.”
    Sensing an ulterior motive she gazed at him with wary eyes. “Why?” 
    “In all seriousness?” His mouth quirked. “Disregarding the fact that men are naturally superior, and therefore more assertive, any information a lady could impart with regards to his shortcomings would only serve to improve him.”
    Did he think she was a fool? She ignored the glint of amusement in his eyes and regarded him. “If we are to disregard the fact of a man’s supposed superiority, why did you see fit to mention it, Rafe? A man cannot regard himself as superior and admit to needing improvement in the same breath. You are being illogical to goad me into debate, thus to amuse yourself at my expense.”
    “You are wrong, Angel.” Rafe