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No, she had seen him at his most vulnerable.

Mr Wycliff arched a brow. “And though you feign the confidence of the Scarlet Widow, beneath the bravado you are still the struggling actress.”

Alcock took a step forward, the tip of her booted foot pressing down onto Mr Wycliff’s toes. She raised her chin. “I’ve beaten men black and blue for less.”

Mr Wycliff’s amused gaze slipped slowly to his feet before fixing on his prey. “And I’ve blown a lead ball into the chest of men with half your insolence. Perhaps your mistress needs to learn that the stocks are the place for outspoken servants.”

“Raise a hand to me, and you’ll be pickin’ your teeth out of the gutter.”

“That is quite enough,” Scarlett said, eager to put an end to this uncordial standoff. “If we are to work together, you will learn to get along. Now, allow me to present my trusted coachwoman, Alcock.”

“Alcock?” Mr Wycliff’s dark eyes scanned Scarlett’s burly servant as he dragged his foot out from under her boot. “How apt.”

Clearly, he referred to her servant’s overtly masculine appearance.

“You may wait for me outside, Alcock, while we tend to business.” Despite Alcock’s penchant for violence, respect for her position meant she always obeyed her mistress.

“I have taken the liberty of hiring a private room,” the rogue said, winking at Alcock and flashing her a wicked grin. “We don’t want any ill-timed interruptions.”

A muscle in Alcock’s jaw twitched, but Scarlett arched her brow, and the woman turned on her heel and marched from the tavern.

The gentleman chuckled. “I sense a little hostility.”

“She has spent most of her adult life being verbally abused by men. I’ve yet to find a way to calm the bitter rage within.”

“Ah, the pugilist from the dens in Whitechapel,” he said as if recognition had suddenly dawned. “Forgive me. After downing three bottles of claret last night my memory is somewhat hazy.”

Scarlett’s heart skipped a beat. Please say he recalled the moment where she bared more than her soul. The man had probably gazed upon a hundred pairs of naked breasts. But she could not have those sinful eyes look upon hers again.

“I trust, Mr Wycliff, that you remember some things with clarity. A lady might struggle to expose herself in such a candid way a second time.” Indeed, it had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to let the garment fall.

His dark eyes grew warm as he scanned the front of her red pelisse. “Some things a man never forgets.” The velvet tone of his voice slipped over her like a soothing caress.

Confusion rendered her momentarily speechless. She had expected his top lip to rise in disdain at the memory, expected to see disgust mar his fine features. She had not expected a look brimming with insatiable lust.

Had he not seen the ugly scars?

Had it not made him feel sick to his stomach?

“Of course, once we’re nestled inside a private room,” he continued, “you might like to remind me.”

The thought of being alone with him again sent her pulse racing. “I suspect one scar is pretty much like another.”

“Scar? I thought we were talking about something else entirely.”

Scarlett breathed a heavy sigh. She had more important things to do than exchange quips with him all day. “Perhaps we should skip the pleasantries, Mr Wycliff, and get to the matter of your oath.”

“You speak of the foolish promise made in the heat of the moment.”

The comment hit like a stray arrow, too quick for her shield-maidens to defend. “Nevertheless, you gave your word.”

Mr Wycliff inclined his head. “Then I suppose you had better follow me.”

With his usual arrogant swagger, he cut through the crowd, grinning at his friends as he moved past their table. The door at the far end of the room opened into a small hallway. Scarlett presumed he had commanded use of a parlour, but he mounted the stairs two at a time, climbed two flights before leading her into a room with a low-beamed ceiling and no furniture other than a bed.

Once inside, he locked the door behind them. “One cannot be too careful. I doubt either of us wants someone bursting in at an inopportune moment.”

Nerves rattled in her throat.


Tags: Adele Clee Scandalous Sons Historical