Seducing the Rake (Mad, Bad and Dangerous Heroes) Read Free Page A

me!”
    “Cocky little bantam,” her captor muttered. “But you’ll find I’m no easy cull.” His hands hose to tug at the silk mask covering her face. Frowning, he searched for some knot to remove it.
    “Ooooow! ‘hurt me, yer did!” She made herself go completely limp. Her breath wedged in her throat as she felt the heat of his thighs, all hard, corded muscle locked against her own. Dimly she was aware of a mingling of scents—of spicy soap, the floral odor of a woman’s perfume, and the salty tang of sweat.
    She had never been so close to a man wearing so little before, never felt every ridge of rib and thigh.
    Anthony…
    Midnight’s eyes filled with tears.
    Her captor frowned. “Germaine! Bring the candle, damn it!”
    No time, Midnight thought wildly. Fear slammed through her. Forget him, unless you wish to spend the next five years of your life dodging rats in a squalid English prison!
    At that moment her grim-faced captor eased the silk belt from his dressing gown.
    Midnight saw his intention. “I ain’t got nothin’ of yers, mister, ‘onest I don’t! Only one bleedin’ ‘andkerchief.” She schooled her voice to a low whine. “Just one paltry bit o’ silk. No call to truss a fellow up like a bleedin’ chicken for a bit o’ nonsense like that!”
    “You’ll spend five years at Newgate for that nonsense, you beggar! Or maybe it’ll be transportation for you.”
    Transportation to New South Wales? What hope would her father have then?
    With a gasp she let her knees go completely slack until she slid toward the floor, a dead weight in his arms.
    “Get up, damn it! You’ll not escape me.”
    The earl cursed as his silk-clad captive twisted and dropped between his legs, kicking wildly. And then, with one well-aimed thrust at his manhood, Midnight drove him to his knees.
    As he bent over in pain, Midnight sprinted toward the open window and slipped out onto the roof.
    Before her the rising moon cast a silver nimbus around the dark spires of St. Paul’s.
    Beautiful , she thought dimly.
    And unless she was very careful, it could be the last thing she ever saw.
    ~ ~ ~
     
    Angry and unsettled, the usually immaculate Earl of Morland raced down to the end of the yard. Even as he watched, a slim figure eased past a chimney and disappeared down the far slope of the roof.
    Smothering a curse, Morland leaped the low wooden fence and plunged down the narrow alley behind the townhouse. Then he stopped, spellbound as a small shadow moved toward the edge of the roof.
    In silence the slender figure inched forward. His arms swayed like the slow, graceful sweep of wings. The movements were impossibly beautiful, Morland thought. Something tugged at the back of his mind, some connection he knew he should be making.
    But fear and brandy and sex had numbed his usually acute senses, so that all he could think of was that small, dark shape perched so perilously at the ridge of the roof.
    A gust of wind swept up from the street, tossing gravel and leaves in Morland’s face.
    Above in the darkness the slender arms floated out, carving elegant swirls against the smoky sky.
    The little thief was well trained indeed, each movement almost Asian in its grace. And he might just make it across to safety, Morland thought, feeling a surge of reluctant admiration.
    Without warning a clay tile burst free, clattering over the roof and exploding to powder on the cobblestones sixty feet below.
    Damn, the little fool would end up shattered like that tile if he wasn’t careful!
    Atop the roof the slim shadow eased to a crouch. With one fluid movement he jumped.
    Morland watched, his heart in his throat, as the shadow sailed over the street and plummeted onto a facing pediment. There the figure hung, fifty feet above the pound, while his slim legs dug into the stone face, vainly seeking a foothold.
    “Hold on! There’s a ledge to your left!” the earl shouted.
    The small feet began to kick, rocking back and forth until they gained