Page 16 of Along Came a Rogue

His lips curled. Yes, she had been that, all right.

She hesitated, then admitted, “To be honest, I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Nor I you.” But he was glad he had. Not only was he enjoying her company now that a truce had been established, but he also suspected she needed him far more than she let on. “You know, Thomas told me stories about when you two were children and all the trouble you caused together.”

“It was always his fault.” At that, she set the poker aside and smiled conspiratorially at him. “I was perfectly innocent in everything.”

“Of course,” he agreed with mock earnestness. He swirled the brandy in the glass and asked casually, “So what happened that you two aren’t close anymore?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her body stiffen, her smile fade. Pained regret flashed over her face, then disappeared beneath a forced smile. “I got married.” She shrugged the question away. “A woman leaves her family and looks to her husband for support and love.”

My God, she was the world’s worst liar. “But you two were so attached—”

“I heard stories about you, too,” she interrupted, and none too smoothly, but he let her, even knowing full well how she’d purposefully changed topics. Apparently, she wasn’t good at subterfuge, either. “About your activities in Spain. All kinds of stories.”

“All kinds?” He grimaced, remembering his exploits off the battlefield, the drunken fights in the local taverns, the relentless pursuit of the local wenches.

“All kinds,” she repeated pointedly, slowly approaching him.

“Good Lord,” he muttered in embarrassment and gulped down the rest of the brandy.

With another laugh—this one more relaxed than the first—she took the glass from him and refilled it. She arched a disapproving brow at him over her shoulder. “Did you and Thomas really shave a goat?”

“That goat had it coming. He devoured a perfectly good pair of boots,” he defended shamelessly, although in retrospect, perhaps leaving the beast bald hadn’t been the best of reparations. “Besides, it was Thomas’s fault.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.” Her eyes sparkled disbelievingly. “And the incidents with the hay cart, the casks of wine, the flamenco dancers—”

“Lies, all of it,” he warned as he accepted the fresh glass, this time making her come to him. “Don’t believe a word. I was always a perfect gentleman.”

Clucking her tongue softly, she shook her head. “What a shame, then. The image I had of you in my head as a rake has been shattered. I’ll never think of you the same way again.”

“Good.” He blew out a hard breath.

She laughed, and his chest filled with warmth. He could easily get used to that sound…soft and soothing, like falling rain.

“And who are you these days, Grey?” Her eyes shined mischievously. “A gentleman or a rake?”

“Both,” he answered earnestly. And she should be grateful for that. Because tonight, the gentleman was keeping the rake at bay.

Her laughter faded. Her face grew serious, and she hesitated before saying quietly, “Thomas wrote that you’d been wounded.”

His gut tightened, unprepared for that swift change in conversation. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” He held her gaze, and to her credit, she didn’t avert her eyes. “That’s not usually a story society ladies want to hear.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not an ordinary society lady, I suppose.”

No, you’re certainly not. And he couldn’t help but wonder exactly how extraordinary she was, how far from the expectations of propriety she’d be willing to stray. With him.

Slowly, he reached over to pat the seat cushion beside him.

But she didn’t accept the invitation and only continued to watch him warily through lowered lashes, as if unable to decide how far she could trust him.

“Sit down, Emily,” he ordered softly. “There’s nothing scandalous about two old friends enjoying a quiet conversation.”

Clearly, though, she didn’t believe that, her eyes sweeping from her dressing robe to the door, back from the door to his half-undressed appearance as he lounged on the settee…When she didn’t move, a stab of unexpected disappointment pierced him that the brat should prove so ordinary after all.