Read Online Redeeming the Rogue by Donna MacMeans - Free Book Online Page A

black skirts. “Are you familiar with my brother’s work?”
    He turned his gaze toward her. “I heard your footsteps and”—he sniffed—“ jasmine today?” A slight smile lifted his lips. “Were you studying me, Lady Arianne?”
    Caught in the act! Her faced warmed. “You are not an unattractive man, Mr. Rafferty. I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”
    “On the contrary.” He straightened. His gaze swept over her with a knowing smile. “Perhaps it would make you feel at ease if I admit that I find you attractive as well.”
    His comment had the reverse effect. The appreciation in his eyes nearly took her breath away. But she reminded herself that she had been in a similar situation before. Baron Von Dieter had blinded her with compliments, and she had foolishly believed them all. She was no longer a gullible little miss, but then what exactly was she? She took a deep breath, lowered her gaze, then strode into the salon. “I’ve been thinking about what we should discuss today, Mr. Rafferty. I’ve been reminded that your first order of business in Washington will be for you and your wife to call upon the president of the United States.”
    His eyes creased as his smile deepened.
    “Did I say something amiss?” she asked, failing to see what caused his amusement.
    “I find it difficult to reconcile the words ‘my wife’ with a nonexistent personage,” he explained. “I’m sorry. You were speaking of President Garfield?”
    “Yes, the very same.” She smiled, pleased that Mr. Rafferty was finally taking his role as British minister seriously. She absently picked up the heavy white ivory queen from an unfinished game of chess that she and Mrs. Summers had begun last evening. Her brother had written that the set was once owned by Napoleon Bonaparte while in exile at Saint Helena. It was only one of the many extravagant purchases her brother William had made after he’d married his heiress. Arianne slid her fingers over the intricate carving, wishing she had some of William’s sense of tactical maneuvering. She walked a very fine line with this man. “I see you’ve done some preparatory study.”
    His lips tightened. In less time than it took to advance a pawn a space on the chessboard, the temperament in the room shifted. “I assure you, my lady, I do read.” His eyes narrowed in her direction. “The American president’s recent election was reported by the Times .”
    Her cheeks heated. She hadn’t meant to insult him, yet apparently she’d done just that. “I didn’t mean to imply . . .” She set the chess piece back on its square, then clasped her hands in front of her, determined to clear some of the tension that crackled in the air. “I fear we may have begun on the wrong foot. I can see that you are a gentleman. Perhaps if we were—”
    “But that’s where you are wrong, miss.” Rafferty fixed his gaze on her and moved closer, like a hunter stalking prey. “A learned man once defined a gentleman as one who never inflicts pain.” The cut on Rafferty’s lip reminded her that he was quite capable of that very thing. Goose bumps lifted on her arm.
    Rafferty stepped close, too close. A tremor slipped down her spine. She tried to step back, but the chess table pressed her backside, blocking her retreat. He moved closer. A fragrance redolent of something earthy and familiar teased her senses, but she hadn’t the leisure to dwell on that now. Not when this powerfully built man stood near enough to steal her breath.
    “By that definition, I’m not a gentleman.” His dark eyes bored into hers. “Do you understand?”
    Her hand pushed the hard muscle of his chest to stop his further advance. At least, that was her intent. She glanced at her fingers that registered his heartbeat, the pulsing life of him, the vitality.
    “There are all kinds of pain, Mr. Rafferty.” She glanced up, capturing his arrogant gaze. “Not all of them leave marks like that on your lip. Some leave