The Master's Mistress Read Free

she’d had no telephone upstairs with which to call the police was irrelevant; he should have made good his escape long ago!
    For the first time she noticed the blood-soaked paper towel wrapped about the palm of one long hard hand. ‘How did you cut your hand if you didn’t break a window to get in?’ she pounced triumphantly.
    He glanced down at his hand before looking back up at her. ‘I dropped the damned milk bottle when I was getting it out of the fridge.’ He scowled darkly. ‘A piece of the glass pierced my hand when I got down on the floor to mop up the mess.’
    That explained the crash Elizabeth had heard earlier.
    Although not the reason this man had been taking a milk bottle from the fridge in the first place…
    ‘You don’t seriously expect me, or the police, to believe that explanation, do you?’ she scorned.
    Rogan had been travelling for hours. Fraught, tense hours, during which he hadn’t been able to sleep. Consequently he was tired and still thirsty, and, amusing as this woman undoubtedly was, he was tired of answering herquestions. Especially when for him there was still the more obvious question to be answered of what she was doing at Sullivan House at all!
    He stood up, his expression becoming impatient as the redhead immediately took a step away from him. ‘I would really rather drink a cup of the tea I was making earlier than your blood!’
    ‘You were in the kitchen making a cup of tea?’ she echoed incredulously.
    Rogan raised dark brows. ‘So?’
    ‘So I don’t—For your information, I read those sort of books purely for escapism!’ she snapped defensively, as his earlier remark about not wanting to drink her blood suddenly registered with her.
    Rogan smiled slightly. ‘From the little I just read, I should think they might give you sexual inspiration, too!’
    Her cheeks coloured bright red at his obvious mockery. ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Ah, at last a sensible question,’ he murmured appreciatively, before turning to stroll from the room and return down the hallway to the kitchen, to lift the teapot and pour himself a cup of the dark liquid that was no doubt completely stewed by now.
    So much for his intention of drinking a leisurely cup of tea before going upstairs and grabbing a decent night’s sleep!
    ‘Well?’ The little firebrand had followed him to the kitchen and was now standing challengingly in the doorway.
    Rogan took a sip of the tea before attempting to answer her. As he had suspected, it was slightly bitter. ‘Well, what?’ he snapped as he turned to refill the kettle before switching it on.
    ‘Who are you?’ she repeated forcefully.
    His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Obviously not a burglar!’
    Elizabeth was very quickly coming to appreciate that fact. This man might look like every forbidden fantasy she had ever had, but a burglar wouldn’t have stopped in the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea before stealing all the valuables! Or cleaned up the mess when a bottle of milk fell and smashed on the floor. Neither would he bother lifting a fainting female from that same floor in order to carry her to a comfortable sofa. And he certainly wouldn’t enter into conversation about the book Elizabeth had been reading before she went to sleep…
    How embarrassing was it that this man—a man whose every movement was as smoothly lethal as the predator hero in her book—had discovered her weakness for sexy vampire stories?
    It wasn’t just embarrassing—it was mortifying!
    ‘Are you a relative of Mrs Baines?’ Although what a relative of the housekeeper would be doing in the main house was beyond Elizabeth.
    The intruder obviously thought the same thing, as he gave her a mocking glance before replying, ‘Nope.’
    ‘Are you going to tell me who you are, or—?’
    ‘Or what?’ He leant back against one of the work-units, arms folded across the broad width of that seriously muscled chest, those dark eyes narrowed on her ominously. ‘I think a more