At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

Chapter Two

“Pardon?” Wild and confused, the lady’s blue eyes shot to Drake before returning to settle on Miles. “Would you mind repeating that?”

“I am Greystone,” Miles said in a commanding voice. Not as harsh as the one that made men quiver in their boots. “If you have a gripe, madam, it is with me.”

Miles suppressed a smirk as he watched the lady’s cheeks flush from her embarrassing misconception. He had no notion what crime he had committed to rouse her ire.

“You’re Greystone?” Her inquiring sapphire gaze fell to his lips and the cleft in his chin.

By all that was holy, the damn muscles in his abdomen tensed in response. Anger flared to dispel the sudden jolt of desire. Just because he lacked his friend’s terrifying countenance did not mean she shouldn’t fear him.

“Well?” he continued, suddenly eager to put this woman in her place. “Am I to hear of this gripe or are you to stand there gawking until dawn?”

The lady did not flinch at his gruff tone, did not avert her gaze, did not flounder under the heat of his stare. Instead, she straightened her shoulders ready to wage war. “I have a grievance with you, sir, not a gripe.”

“Then I must assume your grievance has addled your brain. As a viscount, madam, you may address me as my lord.”

Most people’s cheeks would flame red with shame at the faux pas. But, no. She glared at him, shooting ice-blue darts of discontent.

“And as an unmarried lady, you may address me as Miss Lovell.”

Miss Lovell? If memory served, this lady was his neighbour. And she was without a husband. Why did he take pleasure from that thought?

“Love all?” Miles said with amusement. “How ironic when you have nothing but hatred in your eyes.”

“Lovell,” she repeated with a huff of frustration.

“Love hell? Then perhaps Drake is your man.” Miles had berated his friend for teasing her and yet he couldn’t shake the urge to unsettle her steely composure.

Moving on from that thought, his mind conjured an image of her soft body lying beneath him, of her begging and writhing for his love and attention. He considered her raised chin and perfect pout, and those dazzling eyes that held a hint of pain.

The lady was a conundrum.

She appeared too prim, too innocent for his liking and yet he couldn’t help but find her courage appealing.

“You surprise me, my lord,” she said, stressing the correct form of address. “I presumed a gentleman with such a black heart would find little amusing.”

Drake chuckled. “Your crime must be great indeed if the lady has held a grievance for five years.”

Miles observed Miss Lovell’s stirring countenance. The lady could be no older than twenty, was but a slip of a girl when he’d left Greystone Manor. Odd that he didn’t remember her. But then he’d spent most of his time at school before heading out to make his fortune. He scoured his mind trying to think of a relative he’d offended to such a great degree that she would seek him out upon his return.

No one came to mind.

“Are your parents aware you’ve escaped the nursery?” he said, batting back the ball in this game of quips.

“My parents are dead,” she snapped.

Was that the cause of her complaint?

“Then that explains why a lady of good breeding is wandering around the woods after dark. Are you in the habit of accosting rogues, Miss Lovell?”

“Ha, so you admit you’re a scoundrel.”

Oh, he could be downright ruthless when pressed but never dishonourable. Miles opened his arms wide—a challenge for her to do her worst. “I’m tired from my travels. Have at it and let me go to my bed.”

“Are your sins so great that you cannot remember those innocent people you’ve injured? Surely, you don’t need me to act as court clerk and draw up an extensive list of indictments.”

Her eyes filled with water. A host of emotions swam there—sorrow and anger and fear. Whatever he was supposed to have done, it had caused this lady great pain.