A Rogues Proposal (Cynster 4)

With three books in her arms, she finally quit that bookshelf and strolled farther down the aisle. Pushing away from his resting place, Demon ambled after her. She paused to select a cookbook; he glanced at the title as she lifted it down. Italian Renaissance Recipes.

"Are you planning to entertain an Italian count?"

She glanced at him. "It's for Foggy-she loves reading recipes." The book was large and heavy; she juggled it, trying to settle it in her arms.

"Here." He reached for the book.

"Oh-thank you." With a grateful smile, she handed him the cookbook and her three novels.

Lips setting, Demon accepted them all, reminding himself that none of his acquaintances, not even Reggie, were likely to come in and discover him wandering the aisles at an angel's beck and call, loaded with cookbooks and romantic novels.

Flick's next stop was the biographies. "The General likes reading about gentlemen connected with horses. The last book I got for him was about a cavalry major." Frowning, she studied the shelves. "Do you know of any work he might find interesting?"

Demon glanced at the leather and gilt spines. "I don't read much."

"Oh?" Brows rising, she looked up. "What do you do of a quiet evening?"

He trapped her wide gaze. "Active endeavors are more to my taste."

A puzzled frown formed in her eyes. "You must relax sometime."

Lips curving, he let his gaze grow intent, let his voice deepen. "The endeavors I favor are guaranteed to relax."

A faint blush tinged her cheeks; she held his gaze for an instant, then raised a haughty brow and looked away.

Inwardly grinning, Demon looked back at the books. At least she no longer viewed him as a benevolent uncle. "What about this one?" Reaching over her head, he tugged a volume free.

"Colonel J.E. Winsome: Memoirs of a Commander of Horse," Flick read as he put the book in her hands. She opened it and quickly perused the description at the front. "Oh, yes! This is perfect. It's about the cavalry in the Peninsula War."

"Excellent." Demon straightened. "Can we go now?"

To his relief, Flick nodded. "Yes, that's it."

She led the way to the front of the hall.

Mrs. Higgins pursed her lips in silent disapproval as Demon set the books on her desk. Flick appeared not to notice; she chatted blithely as Mrs. Higgins wrote her selections on a card. Stepping back, Demon cast a last glance around-he wouldn't be paying a second visit if he could help it.

One of the old gentlemen in the overstuffed armchairs had woken; he sent a suspicious look his way, frowning direfully from under shaggy brows.

Turning back to Flick, Demon relieved her of the pile of books she'd just settled in her arms. "Come-I'll drive you home."

Flick smiled, bid Mrs. Higgins good-bye, and preceded him to the door; Demon followed, his gaze on her hips, his mind busy with plans to cure her of all future need for fictional romantic stimulation.

Chapter 1O

For Flick, their journey to the library was the start of a most peculiar week.

Demon drove her back to the manor by the longest possible route, ostensibly to try the blacks' paces. As he consented to let her handle the ribbons again, she refrained from making any comment on his high-handed arrogance-as it happened, she hadn't had anything better to do.

At least, nothing to compare with the sensation of bowling along, the breeze ruffling her hair, the ribbons taut in her hands. The sheer exhilaration of tooling his curricle, well-sprung and built for speed, with the blacks high-stepping down the lanes, had worked its addictive magic-she was hooked.

When he drew up before the manor, she was smiling so brightly that she couldn't possibly have admon

ished him.

Which, from the gleam in his eye, was precisely as he'd planned.

He was back the next morning, although this time, it wasn't her he had come to see; he spent an hour with the General, discussing a line of horses the General was investigating. Of course, the General invited him to stay for luncheon, and he accepted.