A Notorious Love Read Free

hair.
    He’d sure like a look at it. There must be oceans of silky mahogany wrapped up tight under there, just waiting for a man to unwind it so it could flow free over her naked body, so he could stroke it and bury his face in all that soft, woman-scented—
    His pego roused in his trousers again, making him groan. Fool thing, to be angling after the likes of Lady Helena. What was he thinking? If any man came within ten feet of that fair swan, especially the bastard son of Wild Danny Brennan, she’d be squawking loud enough to wake the dead. That was the trouble with swans—they were pretty from a distance, but close up they were foul-tempered as the very devil.
    Which made it all the more intriguing that she’d come to him for help. Nearly begged him for it, too. He was sure she’d always thought him coarse, and she probably thought him unscrupulous. So what could she possibly want with him now?
    He shoved away from the doorframe. He’d made her wait long enough—might as well find out what daft notion had brought her to St. Giles.
    “I see the tea is here,” he said as he entered and noticed the tea tray sitting a few inches from her ladyship’s sketch pad.
    She started and closed her pad. “Yes. Do you want some?”
    “All right. I’m parched this morning.” Some wickedness made him add, “That’s what happens when a man’s spent half the night entertaining.”
    As he’d expected, she colored right up. Ah, he was a scoundrel to tease her so, but how could he resist making her blush so prettily?

    Ducking her head, she daintily poured him a cup of tea. “Milk? Sugar?”
    “Both, if you please.”
    The tiny smile on her lips as she added milk to his tea struck him as curious. Until she gave it to him and he drank some. “This tea’s cold,” he grumbled.
    “What do you expect? Your landlady brought it in over twenty minutes ago.”
    The hint of reproof in her voice was unmistakable. Impudent wench.
    “Didn’t I rush down here fast enough to suit your ladyship?” He set his cup down on the table. “P’raps I shouldn’t have bothered to dress. P’raps you would’ve preferred to have this conversation with me in my drawers.”
    To his satisfaction, her blush deepened to scarlet, and she drew the edges of her pelisse closer together. “Just because you enjoy cavorting naked in front of women doesn’t mean the women take pleasure in it.”
    He rested his hand on the table and bent closer, feeling full of mischief. “Never had any complaints before.”
    “Given your choice of companion, that doesn’t surprise me.”
    He laughed, which only seemed to annoy her further. The lass was still peeved over Sall and her boldness? And after he’d sent the shameless tart home without even a kiss, too. “I take it you disapprove of my ‘choice of companion.’”
    “I don’t care in the least whom you consort with,” she declared with an elegant little sniff.
    “But I’ll wager you have your own ideas about who it should be.” Bent on devilment, he added, “P’raps a woman like your ladyship?”
    “Certainly not!” Then, as if realizing too late the insultbehind her words, she stammered, “I-I mean…that is…”
    “It’s all right,” he put in, annoyed by her answer, though he supposed he deserved it for teasing her. He straightened from the table. “You needn’t worry I’ll make improper advances to you, m’lady. I prefer the sort of woman who enjoys seeing a man in his drawers.”
    Just that quick, her embarrassment turned to frosty hauteur. She glanced away. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you live where such women abound.”
    He had the odd feeling that he’d insulted her, though he couldn’t imagine how, and to his surprise, her distant air irritated him. “Ah, and where do you think I should live? Hidden away in the country like your ladyship? Where you can avoid the world and its troubles?” He dropped his voice to a thrum. “Where big nasty men like myself don’t