The Art of Ruining a Rake Read Free

behind her. Out of reach.
    A watch fob glinted at his waistcoat as he advanced again. “You didn’t seem to mind me much before. In fact, you seemed to find me more than just passingly tolerable.”
    Her nipples hardened in spite of herself. Her rapid breaths could be attributable to her mortal fear of wounding him, or they might be due to the reminder that yes, she had found him much more than passingly tolerable.
    Another step closer. Her bodice squeezed against her lungs. He was doing dangerous things to her insides. Making her stomach sink and her heart soar. She did want to run and throw herself into his arms. That was the problem. She did desire him. She would always desire him. But…
    This was the scoundrel who brought her greatest fear to life. He could lie with her. Love her. Then, with an adoring smile, casually admit he had no idea who she was. He was a rake, through and through. If she let him, he’d break her heart.
    But…
    He wasn’t the one she feared.
    From the corner of her eye, Lucy caught the gleam of the letter knife. No. She darted forward and pushed a stack of invoices over the blade. Mother had murdered Papa for not much more reason than this.
    Than this…
    Obsession .
    Lucy backed up again and pressed her spine against the window. As far away from the dagger—and Roman—as she could get.
    “Why did you come?” she demanded, her fingers digging into the wooden window box behind her. She must be strong. Calm.
    His blond brows rose as if he couldn’t possibly understand why she might be so uninviting. As if he hadn’t a single memory of what had passed between them during her come-out, or what had occurred after.
    Or why she might find it all too easy to plunge that letter knife into his black, black heart.
    “Can’t a gentleman pay a call on his best friend’s sister without her reaching for her smelling salts?” Roman spoke in a teasing tone, provoking her. “Come, now, Miss Lancester. I don’t bite.”
    She drew up hotly. She prided herself on her control. “I’m not overset — ”
    “Aren’t you?” He took another step toward her. “It is good to see me again. You must have wondered where I’ve been. Where a man disappears to after having his heart crushed under the heel of a hard woman’s shoe.”
    Some of her fire went out. Had she hurt him? He had a way of seeming sincere, even when she knew he was a blackguard.
    He took a step around the back of her desk, drawing closer to her still. His crystalline eyes penetrated hers. “My heart has been stomped on. Flattened. Ground right into the carpet.”
    His last stride brought him within arm’s reach of her.
    She didn’t need a mirror to see her treasonous response to his nearness. Her lips had parted. Tiny, hitched breaths escaped her as her bosom rose and fell. Even while she knew his words to be nothing but sweet, addictive venom, she wanted them to be true. Had he been affected by her harsh treatment of him? Had she, perhaps, let her silent resentment simmer too hot, and too long?
    She scrambled around her desk and dashed to the door. She couldn’t pity him! Next she’d be disrobing for him, and he hadn’t even tried to kiss her yet!
    When she reached the closed door, she spun and stood tall again. If he tried anything more, she could dart into the hallway. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t hurt you.”
    “Oh, but you did.” He pulled a buttery yellow curtain aside and peeked at the street. Then he yanked the window closed with one smooth motion. “Can you imagine how it’s pained me to know that while I was watching you from afar, you weren’t even aware of me? What we shared, my pet, meant nothing to you. It has taken me months to come to terms with it. My poor pride, you know. I’ve spent half a year in abject misery.”
    She crossed her arms under her breasts and glowered at him. Did he expect her to eat up this rubbish with a spoon? She was one of dozens, if not hundreds, of his conquests.
    Yet he