To Tame a Scoundrel's Heart (A Waltz with a Rogue Novella Book 4) Read Free Page B

spencer.”
    And reveal her damp bosom and back? The fabric would cling most inappropriately. “I’m not all that warm. I shall be fine.”
    As soon as she stripped naked and plunged into an ice bath.
    In three strides, Captain St. Monté reached the fireplace and set about poking the cavorting flames into a demure blaze. “There, this should keep you warm, Aunt Bertie, without overheating Miss Needham.”
    Not a jot of moisture glinted on his face while distinct dampness pooled beneath Katrina’s arms and trickled down her spine. Between her breasts too, dash it all. A saturated sponge oozed less moisture than her at the moment.
    And there he stood, bronzed and dry , the flickering fire illumining his noble profile. When he extinguished the incense, Katrina almost whooped with gratitude.
    “Next time, Bertie, love, light one incense when you can ventilate the room well. I wouldn’t want you to suffer ill-effects from my gift.”
    “You’re so considerate of me, Nic.” Miss Sweeting sank further into her chair and shut her eyes.
    A faint frown drew Katrina’s brows together. Mayhap she’d suggest Mama have Doctor Cutter pay Miss Sweeting a visit. She’d lost more weight, and her pallor troubled Katrina.
    Line’s bracketed The Saint’s eyes, too, as he scrutinized his aunt.
    A droplet seeped onto Katrina’s temple.
    God help her, but ripping off her spencer and dumping the vase’s water over her head truly tempted. Instead, she withdrew the scented lacy accessory passing for her handkerchief and, the instant St. Monté sauntered to his aunt, swiftly patted her face and scooted as far from the fire as the sofa allowed.
    Ladies didn’t mop perspiration from their person in front of gentlemen, though why they weren’t permitted to boggled. Women sweated too.
    Think of something else.
    “What brings you to Richmond, Captain St. Monté? Do you sail again soon?” She couldn’t very well ask him what ships he planned to plunder next. Or what salacious ports he most preferred.
    Miss Sweeting’s eyelids popped open. “Oh, dear. You don’t know. I’d quite forgotten.” She rested a gnarled hand upon his fingers cupping her shoulder. “Nic’s circumstances have undergone a rather unexpected and dramatic change.”
    “I’ll say they have.” An undercurrent of derision weighted The Saint’s flippant remark.
    Had his lettre de marque been rescinded? What would he do now?
    The sea had been St. Monté’s life these past fourteen years, since he’d stowed away on a cutter at twelve, and his near legendary exploits traveled High Society’s most elite circles.
    A fortune nudged open many doors, as Papa and Mama had discovered. Aristocratic by-blows sipped Champagne and enjoyed caviar and truffles side by side with those born on the right side of the blanket. Might The Saint now enter the social fray he’d formerly scorned?
    “May I assume we’ll have the pleasure of your presence more often?” Katrina oughtn’t to have been so giddy at the notion. Richard wouldn’t approve, even if he wasn’t overtly jealous. Really, betwixt the two, rough pirate or polished officer, only Richard should’ve appealed. That Captain St. Monté also did, perplexed her no end.
    St. Monté’s left eyebrow elevated in a lofty and sardonic manner again.
    Did he use that expression when facing the captains whose ships he’d pillaged?
    “Some mightn’t consider my presence all that pleasurable,” he said, that same mockery tinging his words.
    “I beg your pardon.” Oddly discomfited, Katrina directed her gaze to her wadded handkerchief, crushing the tormented scrap. “It wasn’t my intent to pry.”
    Burning curiosity piqued, nonetheless, and she studied him through her lashes.
    Satire, rather than humor, kicked his well-formed mouth upward on one side. “No need to apologize, Miss Needham, and I must ask forgiveness for my boorish behavior.”
    “Truly, your plans are none of my concern.” But she’d like to make