Page 60 of The Countess Caper

Her lungs decided to work again. Roarke studied her for a moment, as if he knew she was lying but could not discern why. She turned the same bright smile on him. “Shall we?”

He nodded, stifling a groan.

“This was your idea,” she reminded him cheerfully. She was warming to it. Not because she missed the parties, or the way people had stared at her since The Incident. And not just because Roarke would be with her, and she just felt better when he was. That was something to ignore. With enthusiasm.

But also because there were likely to be many gentlemen there with pasts full of indiscretions.

And purses full of coins.

She would be able to afford a new roof by the end of the week.

“You look positively devilish,” Roarke remarked as the horses pulled away from the house.

She sniffed primly. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He raised an eyebrow. She grinned.

But her smile faltered. “I don’t wish to embarrass you.” Knowing what she did about him and the nature of his first marriage, she imagined he was heartily sick of people whispering about him.

“You won’t.” He sounded very sure.

“I don’t think you realize just how much Society dislikes me.”

“I don’t think you realize just how much I dislike Society.”

There was something comforting about the way he said it. Unflappable.

Still, concern nibbled at her. This was probably a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

She had purposely not put herself in Society since The Incident. She had not been invited since, of course, and she did not push herself into places she was not wanted. Not again. Not anymore.

A thousand small cuts were enough to sever parts of yourself.

But this felt different. She wasn’t alone, for one. And it would help her family. Her new family. Still, she found she had to search for her courage, hidden somewhere under self-preservation and bravado. She inched back in the seat at the sudden, crazy urge to fling herself from the moving carriage.

Roarke pinned her with a glance.

“Are you running from me again?” His green eyes gleamed. He saw too much of her. When had that happened? A month ago, he would only notice her to judge her for her antics, like everyone else.

She stilled. “I wasn’t running from you before. I was leaving,” she pointed out. She would not feel like a coward for protecting herself the only way she knew how. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Yes.” Maybe. Definitely. Perhaps not.

Damn the man.

“Let’s see, shall we?” he continued.

She could only watch him, waiting. Anticipation nudged out the worry.

“Come here,” he added, voice low.

She felt it everywhere. Heat tingled in her low belly. He didn’t move, only stayed sprawled against the seat, slightly too big for the carriage. His boots were planted firmly against the bumps in the road. His coat was folded next to him, and he waited, returning her gaze as he slowly rolled up his shirt sleeves.

It did something to her.