At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

Numerous people had arrived throughout the night to offer assistance. Miles had wondered why she’d not come.

“I believe the legal term is arson. Someone is determined to cast me in the role of villain.”

“Do you know the fiend responsible?”

“Not yet, but I will.” Oh, he wouldn’t rest until the blackguard paid for his crime.

“There’s talk in the village. That’s how I knew to come here.”

“Is there? And what are the good people of Cuckfield saying?” He raised his hand to stall her. “Don’t tell me. They say the devil has returned to rain fire on all those who seek to challenge him.” The comment was made in jest, to ease her obvious anxiety although the furrows on her brow deepened.

“Yes,” she breathed. “That is exactly what they are saying.” Shame marred her flawless features. “That you caused the fire in a fit of rage.” She paused as her eyes studied his. “Though I know it’s not true.”

Damnation!

“Do all the people in Cuckfield have such a bad opinion of me?” Miles dragged his hand through his hair. Oh, he could show them the devil if that’s what they wanted. “Did you doubt me, too?”

Miles waited eagerly for her answer. Her opinion mattered more than most. Honesty was the one thing he demanded from those few people close to him. He would know if she lied.

“I did not believe it for a second.” She stepped forward, so close he could smell the sweet scent of roses. With trembling fingers she placed her hand lightly on his shirt sleeve. Her gentle touch did things to him no other woman ever had. “I judged you once, before I knew you, before I knew the facts. Now I know better.”

A lump formed in his throat as he picked out the compliment woven within her words. “And now, do you feel you know me well enough to make that declaration?”

The dainty hand on his arm fluttered in response. The air between them crackled with lust, with longing, with something far more potent, something infinitely more dangerous. He focused on her slightly open mouth, on the plump lower lip so ripe for the plucking. God, he wanted to kiss her. Yet once he started, he would struggle to stop.

“I could know you better,” she began, and although her tone sounded as smooth as velvet, it was not meant to tease or seduce. “But I have seen enough to believe the best of you.”

Miles raised a challenging brow. Oh, he wanted to hear more, wanted to drink in her good opinion until it made him dizzy.

“Seen enough of me?” His tone carried a seductive quality brought about by hot blood raging through his veins. What was this strong force, this strange bond that existed between them? “And there is plenty more you’ve yet to see.”

Miss Lovell’s sapphire gaze fell to the opening of his loose, soot-stained shirt. She pressed her lips together. “And more to probe.”

Good God! The lady knew how to bring a man crashing to his knees.

Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head. “Oh, that sounded so wrong.”

On the contrary, the comment was sweet music to his ears. And her obvious embarrassment only excited him further.

Miss Lovell snatched her hand from his sleeve. “What I meant to say was I have another reason for seeking you out.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I—I wish to discuss the malicious gossip that is currently making the rounds.”

“In Cuckfield?” She could not know of the shocking things said about them in London. If Edwin valued his life, he would address his mistake.

“In London,” she corrected.

How the hell had she learnt of it so soon?

“Lord Randall received a letter from Lady Martin,” she said, answering his silent question. “Apparently, people believe … they believe we are lovers.”

They did indeed. And, oh, how he wished it were true.

Still, Miles cursed inwardly. Not because he cared what people said about him but because Miss Lovell deserved better. He examined her calm countenance. Most ladies in her position would have a fit of apoplexy, would crumple to the ground a quivering wreck.

But not Miss Courageous.