The Rogue's Proposal Read Free

from her. He just studied her with those penetrating,
     devastating icy blue eyes. When she’d come looking for him in the downstairs tavern,
     she’d no idea he’d be so…compelling.
    And…she’d let him kiss her. Good Lord .
    Do you like to be bound, Mrs. Curtis? Her stomach had clenched hard in response to those words. It hadn’t recovered yet.
    “You don’t seem to be the murdering kind of woman, Mrs. Curtis.” He gave her a wolfish
     grin. “After all, I’m standing here with you, and I’m not in the least afraid for
     my life.”
    She simply continued to stare at him, knowing that if her suspicions proved true,
     she’d gladly kill Roger Morton.
    “Very well,” he said after a moment, “I’ll play. Why do you wish to murder Roger Morton?”
    “Vengeance.”
    His arms tightened at her sides. They were strong arms. Masculine and powerful.
    “What for? What did the man do that was so terrible you wish to end his life?”
    Where to begin? If she was correct in her suspicions, Morton had destroyed nearly
     every aspect of her life. But she supposed it was best to start with the worst of
     his crimes. She closed her eyes and pushed the words out one at a time. “He… murdered …my husband.”
    Silence. Then, “Ah.”
    Ah? That was all he had to say? She opened her eyes, fury rising. But then he shifted
     and his hand came to her face, cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb stroking her
     cheekbone. It had been so long since a man had touched her…kissed her. And the touches
     and kisses of her past had been nothing like the ones Lukas Hawkins, a man she’d known
     for less than an hour, had bestowed upon her. And certainly no one had ever asked
     her if she liked to be bound.
    Heavens . She didn’t want to think about any of this right now. She needed to remain focused.
    “When?” he asked her softly.
    “It’s been…a long time.” A lifetime . “A year ago.”
    “How long were you married?” he asked. “You’re very young.”
    “We were married for only three months before Henry died. But I’m not so young. I’m
     twenty-three.”
    He looked at her with those smoldering, blue-fire eyes, and something within her melted,
     even as she admitted to herself that Lord Lukas was dangerous. Rogue, rake, scoundrel—however
     one wished to label this kind of man, he was its epitome.
    And she knew about rogues, rakes, and scoundrels. Henry had been of that category
     as well, with his approachable visage and penchant for drink and gambling…and women.
     When he died, she’d promised herself that she’d steer clear of those kinds of men
     in the future.
    And now, here was Lord Lukas Hawkins, handsome and dangerous and radiating something
     so raw and so appealing that a part of her wanted to fall straight into the nearest
     bed with him.
    She’d allowed him to kiss her.
    So very, very dangerous.
    She steeled her resolve. Danger or not, he was looking for Roger Morton. And, danger
     or not, she wanted nothing more than to find that man.
    “Pretty Mrs. Curtis,” Lord Lukas said in that silky voice that seemed to slide down
     her spine in a wash of smooth heat, “what’s your Christian name?”
    “Emma,” she told him. There was no reason he shouldn’t know it, after all.
    “May I call you Emma?”
    She hesitated. Only her father, sister, and one or two close acquaintances called
     her Emma these days.
    Still, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to tell him no, so she responded with her
     own challenge. “May I call you Lukas, then?”
    “Never.” His lips curled into a heart-stopping smile. “But you may call me by the
     name my mother uses: Luke.”
    “Luke, then.” She realized he’d stepped back and was no longer trapping her against
     the door. A part of her—that stupid part that had fallen for Henry Curtis—felt bereft.
    She clasped her hands in front of her. “I heard the Dowager Duchess of Trent had gone
     missing. I am sorry.”
    He gave a slight nod of