Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (Sons of Sin 1)

He stiffened with apparent shock, as though the question offended him As if to demonstrate his lack of violent intentions, he spread his hands wide. “Of course not, dear lady.”

This rapscallion was a most bizarre burglar. Her knowledge of the criminal classes was limited, but this man’s easy assurance in her company struck her as remarkable. He spoke like a gentleman and didn’t seem particularly concerned that she pointed a weapon at him. Her lips tightened and she firmed her grip on the pistol. Nerves made her hands slippery. “There’s no ‘of course’ about it. In your line of work, you must be prepared for opposition from your victims.”

“I make sure the house is empty before I start work.”

“Like tonight,” she said coldly.

He shrugged. “Even master criminals make the occasional mistake, Miss Barrett.”

Her belly lurched with dread and this time not even her strongest efforts kept her voice steady. “How do you know my name?”

The lips she could see below the mask twitched and he stepped closer.

“Stay back!” she snapped. Her heart banged so hard against her ribs, surely he must hear it.

Ignoring her pistol with insulting ease, he lifted the candle higher and subjected her to a lengthy and unnerving inspection. Genevieve’s sense of unreality grew. Everything around her was familiar. The shabby comfort of her favorite room. The jumble of articles spread across the desk. The pile of pages covered in her writing. All was as it should be, except for the tall masked man with his indefinable air of elegance and his smile of indulgent amusement. She had an irritating inkling that the reprobate played with her.

Sucking in a shaky breath, she made herself study him as she would one of her artifacts. Although with his face covered, she’d never be able to describe him to the authorities. The candlelight glinted on rich gold hair and found fascinating shadows under the open neck of his loose white shirt. He wore breeches and boots. Despite this basic clothing, his manner screamed rank and privilege. And while she couldn’t see his face, something about the way he carried himself indicated he was a handsome man.

A most bizarre burglar indeed.

“A good thief does his research first,” he said, answering the question she’d forgotten she’d asked. “Although research sometimes lets one down. For example, village gossip had it that you attended a soiree at Leighton Court tonight.”

“I wanted to…” She realized she responded as she’d respond to any polite enquiry. The hand holding the gun showed a lamentable tendency to droop, pointing the barrel harmlessly at the floor. She bit her lip and raised the gun in what she prayed was a menacing gesture. “Get out of this house.”

“But I haven’t got what I came for.”

He shifted even closer and with that movement, she felt more at risk than she had since he’d appeared. At risk as a woman was at risk to a man. She hadn’t missed how his shadowy gaze had lingered when he’d inspected her. She started to back away before she recalled any show of vulnerability would give him the advantage. She pointed the gun directly at his chest. “Get out now or I’ll shoot.”

He frowned as if her threat of violence pricked his sense of decorum. “Dear lady…”

She stiffened. Somewhere she’d lost control of this encounter. Which was absurd. She was the one with the gun. “I’m not your dear lady.”

He bowed as if acknowledging that she’d scored a point. “As you wish, Miss Barrett. I’ve done you no wrong. It seems excessive to menace me with murder and mayhem.”

Shocked amusement almost made her laugh. “You broke into my house. You threatened me with…”

He interrupted her. “Doing it too brown. So far, any threats have emanated from your charming self.”

“You mean to steal,” she said in a low, vibrating voice.

“But I haven’t. Yet.” The expressive mouth above the intriguingly firm jawline curved into a charming smile. “Temper justice with mercy. Let me go free and seek redemption.”

“Let you go free and find some other poor innocent to rob,” she said sharply. “Better I lock you in the cellar and summon the local magistrate.”

“That would be unkind. I don’t like small, confined places.”

“In that case, you’ve chosen the wrong profession. Somewhere someone’s going to catch you and lock you up.”

Disregarding the gun, he took another step toward her. “Surely your compassionate heart smarts at the thought of my imprisonment.”

She retreated and realized he’d boxed her against the side of the desk. “Move away or I swear I will shoot.”

He lit one of the candles on the desk and blew out his own, dropping it smoking to the blotter. “Tsk, Miss Barrett. You’ll get blood on the carpet.”

“I’ll…”

Words escaped her on a gasp as he reached out with surprising speed and strength to grab the hand gripping the gun. A few nimble turns of that long body and he caught her against him, facing the open window he’d climbed through. With her back pressed hard to his chest, she was overwhelmingly aware of his casual masculine power. His leanness was deceptive. There was no denying the muscles in the arms holding her captive or the firm breadth of the chest behind her. He embraced her firmly across her torso, trapping her arms. She still held the weapon but couldn’t shift to aim it at him.