Reckless - By Anne Stuart Page 0,19

then you're the one in trouble. You'll never find anyone willing to put up with you the way that brave

Monty smiled faintly, but didn't bother to argue with her. Instead, he turned his head to looked toward the abbey ruins. The moon was bright overhead, the two spires of the ruined abbey stood stark against the night sky. "It's a beautiful night, Lina," he said. "You know, I hate to admit it, but I'd rather be here with you than romping between the sheets with some lovely young thing. So would you."

She didn't bother denying it—he knew her too well. Though (here were times when she wondered how many others saw through her fevered gaiety. Charlotte, for certain. There were doubtless others.

"There will be other nights to romp, Monty," she said, touching his thin hands.

Monty turned his hand over and clasped hers with weak affection. "More's the pity, love," he murmured.

1 he moon had come out. In the distance Charlotte could hear the strains of music. There had been a small orchestra set up near the dais, and the music, simple and slightly sinuous, snaked its way into her consciousness. She could see Rohan a bit too clearly from beneath her enveloping cowl, and she swallowed nervously, unconsciously flexing her bare toes in the grass as she walked.

He held her hand. It was unnerving—she couldn't remember ever having held a man's hand outside of dancing. When she was young, her rather had certainly never bothered with her enough to hold her hand, and all the servants who'd looked after her were female. Being a short-sighted, overgrown, ginger-haired and befreckled creature, she had obviously never excited the interest of a gentleman enough for him to take her hand.

In fact, disposing of Rohan's company would be quite simple. All she had to do was drop the cowl to her shoulders and let him see just who he'd managed to capture. He'd drop her hand as if burned.

That was only as a last resort. His grasp was light, casual. She didn't doubt his fingers could tighten very swiftly, but the longer she allowed her hand to remain in his the more his guard would likely drop.

He wore no gloves. Neither did she. Another shocking circumstance—she'd barely touched anyone without layers of kid leather between them, back when she'd attempted to dance. She'd never been fond of gioves, except for riding or gardening. They made her palms itch.

But she could suddenly see the wisdom of them for social occasions. There was something so..

.intimate about skin on skin, flesh on flesh. His fingers, warm and strong, wrapped around her unresisting ones.

She allowed herself a furtive glance up at him from beneath her enveloping hood. She could see the ruined spires of the abbey behind him, and for a moment they looked oddly like devil's horns.

She blinked, then wanted to laugh. She was being ridiculously fanciful. Adrian Rohan was nothing but a man. A spoiled, wicked, far too pretty man, but human. By coming here she hadn't somehow managed to sell her soul to the devil.

Should she dare attempt to speak? If she could manage some kind of low-throated rumble of a voice. it might serve to further convince him she was a man.

There was no way he could suspect who she really was—the very proper Miss Spenser would hardly be cavorting with the Mad Monks of the Heavenly Host.

Not that she'd yet cavorted, and she had no intention of doing so. This had all been in the service of a very ill-judged curiosity. Really, couldn't her imagination have sufficed? And who would have thought she'd run into Adrian Rohan?

She had.

The truth came flooding in. She had known perfectly well he would be here, indulging his debauched appetites. She had come here to see him, watch him, if possible, from behind the safety of the disguise. She wanted to see him naked, flushed with desire, so she could capture that in her memory.

She supposed she wouldn't be happy seeing him direct that powerful licentiousness toward some other woman, and if Lina succeeded in bedding him she would walk away, go back to the house and try to forget.

It might even break the powerful hold Rohan had over her mind and her emotions. Because nothing else had managed to have any effect so far. Her longing for him was unbearably painful.

In truth, she looked at the beautiful, spoiled, self-indulgent man and saw a wounded, angry child.

One who needed her.

She mocked herself silently. This man didn't need her