The Rogue's Fortune

She located the light switch and the lamp behind the chair snapped on, illuminating the spill of photos covering the ottoman. Curiosity pulled her into the room. She glanced at the books on the shelves she passed and noticed a predominance of history tomes. Most of these were ancient European volumes, many not written in English, and as she circled, she began to notice more and more on the Middle East. Then she noticed an open cabinet behind the desk filled with scrolls.

Without touching anything on the desk, she tried to see what Roark had been working on. Two of the three books that lay open were written in Arabic. Considering the amount of time Roark spent hunting down artifacts in the Middle East, Elizabeth wasn’t surprised that he could read Arabic, but the fact that his notes were a mixture of English and Arabic intrigued her. It was almost as if he thought in both languages interchangeably.

Diagrams and doodles also filled the pages strewn across the desk. Roark was searching for another treasure. How long before his research ended and he was off on another adventure?

The depth of her disappointment drove Elizabeth away from the desk. So what if Roark left New York? She’d known from the first that it was bound to happen. No one could cage him for long, certainly not her, a woman playing at being his fiancée. But that she was sad at the thought of his leaving told her she was already in too deep.

Elizabeth found the switch that activated the gas fireplace and sat down in the chair, knocking the ottoman in the process and disturbing the stack of photos sitting there. Half a dozen slid to the floor. She picked them up, scrutinizing each. The last photo was of a statue of a woman, her heart rendered in gold. She stood on a base of more gold, stamped with some sort of seal. The statue Roark was accused of stealing. A hard knot developed in her stomach at the accusations lodged against him.

Restoring order to the photos, Elizabeth kicked off her shoes and curled up in the chair. She arranged the throw so it covered her chin to toes and let her head fall back. Gaze on the flames flickering a few feet away, she forced her mind still. In the weeks following the death of her sister, brother-in-law and niece, Elizabeth had perfected the technique of not thinking. If she hadn’t she might have gone mad dwelling on all the ways she was going to miss them.

With her mind quiet and her body warm and comfortable, it didn’t take long for Elizabeth’s eyes to close. Sleep tugged at her. The week had been physically exhausting and emotionally taxing.

In the last moment of wakefulness came the tiniest tug of excitement. Her demanding, eventful week had left her little time to ponder. Now, as her thoughts slowed, she remembered why she’d risked getting involved with Roark. Soon she could start her next round of fertility treatments. Visions of diapers and pacifiers danced in her head as she drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened by the gentlest of touches above her eyebrow. The soft caress drifted down to her cheek and slipped behind her ear. She opened her eyes and gazed at Roark’s face.

“What happened with the FBI?” she asked, her dreamy haze fading.

He toyed with her fingers. “They asked me the same questions as before.”

“Did Darius steal Rayas’s Gold Heart statue?” The question burst out of her, startling him.

“No.” The corner of his lips twitched.

“You’re sure?” She scanned his expression, unsure if she could read him well enough to determine if he was lying to her. “You said he needed money and he has motive to hurt the Sheikh.”

“He’s not a thief.” He lifted her right hand and brushed a kiss across her palm. “I’m glad you made yourself at home. But you would have been more comfortable in my bed.”

Firelight played across his strong bone structure, creating interesting shadows. Flames flickered in his eyes, causing parts of her to burn for him. Her breath grew shallow as a vise seemed to have clamped around her chest.

“And make things easy for you?” Despite the warmth of the room, she tugged the throw higher around her. “I thought you were a man who liked challenges.”

“Getting you into bed isn’t a challenge.”

“You sound awfully confident about that.”

As well he should be. He’d already proven how easily he breached her defenses. She might as well drop the drawbridge and wave the flag of surrender.

“I mean that I don’t perceive making love to you as something I’m doing because my ego demands it, but because if I don’t have you soon, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll survive.”

Elizabeth didn’t know whether to trust his earnest speech, but his words struck the final blow to her guards. They became dust.

“Roark.” She managed only hi

s name before her throat locked up. But she’d always believed that actions spoke louder than words.

Catching his face in her hands, she leaned forward and kissed him. Beneath hers, his lips curved. She felt the muscles of his face shift against her fingertips and knew he was smiling. Happiness bloomed in her chest, an emotion lacking since her family’s death.

She felt glorious. Rich and full. Awakening to the joy life used to hold for her.

Roark’s mouth opened over hers as the kiss deepened. Her head swam as sensation overwhelmed her. She burned. Warmed inside and out by her need for this man. She craved his strength, his weight covering her. The touch of his skin against hers.

As if her hunger communicated to Roark, he slipped his hands beneath her body and scooped her into his arms. She clung to his shoulders. The throw fell away as he carried her from the room.

“Wait.” She pushed at his chest as the cooler air from his bedroom struck her overheated skin. “Put me down. Please.”

He heaved an enormous sigh, but did as she asked. “If you’ve changed your mind, give me thirty seconds to change it back.”