by Amelia Grey
Miss Goodbody turned and headed his way. Though the rain pelted her, she remained unfazed by the downpour and calmly walked up the steps toward him, shrouded in a drenched, hooded cape that was lavishly trimmed along the edge in a brightly colored braid. She was tall and walked with a graceful, regal air that made his lower stomach clench in anticipation. Saint had said she was as cultured and polished as she was skilled, and Morgan was looking forward to finding out all about her talents.
Beneath her heavy cloak, he could see that she was slender and not as voluptuous a woman as Saint had promised, but that didn’t bother him. Morgan had learned many years ago that a woman’s prowess had nothing to do with her size. She stopped before him, and though he couldn’t see much of her face in the gloomy light, he was instantly struck by her ivory complexion and searching eyes. Was that uncertainty he saw in their sparkling green depths?
“Sir,” she said rather breathlessly as she took a quick, fervent look behind her before fastening her gaze on him. “I’m sorry to disturb you this late in the evening, but I’ve been traveling all day to get here.”
She had a beautiful lilt to her soft voice that surprised and intrigued him immediately. She was British, of that he was certain, but he heard a hint of a foreign accent as well that he could only identify as perhaps from a mid-Eastern country. He was certain it wasn’t French or Italian.
“Never mind all that,” he said. “The only thing that matters is that you are here now. Come in where it’s dry.”
He opened the door wider and allowed her to walk past him and into the front hall. Once inside, she folded back the dripping hood, exposing the most beautiful light auburn hair he’d ever seen, flowing over her shoulders in a cluster of rich-looking curls. As she untied the braided cord at her neck, the movements of her slender fingers and delicate hands were equally prim and sensual.
Morgan’s heart started beating a little faster.
With her hood off and in the light from the lamp he’d left on the entrance table, he could see she was quite a bit younger than he’d expected for a courtesan with the experience Saint had assured him she possessed. Morgan would trust that the man had thoroughly checked her out and knew what he was talking about.
Her soft-looking skin was uncommonly pale. He was surprised that her full lips had little color, and dark circles lay under her large, expressive green eyes as if she had recently been gravely ill or hadn’t had proper rest for several days.
In spite of her wan appearance, she was beautiful, enticing in a dreamy, exotic way that caused a sudden surge of heat in him that settled low. Already he wanted to reach out and caress her cheek. He wanted to bring her into the circle of his arms and pull her close to his chest. He wanted to bury his nose in the crook of her neck and breathe in her soft, womanly scent.
Saint had certainly done well for him as far as beauty and allure were concerned. From the heavy rise Morgan felt between his legs, there was no doubt he was physically attracted to her. That alone told him she would be worth every pound he was paying her.
“What delayed you?” he asked, simply to make conversation. “It must have been the weather—or perhaps your driver was a laggard.”
Her dark, fan-shaped brows rose slightly as if to question him. “We didn’t let anything delay us. I came straight here,” she countered.
Morgan looked closer at the young woman. He couldn’t see her dress, but the fabric and trim of her cape were of fine, expensive materials that couldn’t be bought in ordinary shops in London. She had definitely piqued his interest.
“I suppose it rained all the way from London. But no worry, you are here now. I have your room ready. Let me help you with your cape, and then I’ll go tell your driver how to get to the carriage house. Your maid, of course, will be given a room as well.”
As he reached for her, she stepped away from him. Her eyes challenged him with a high-handedness he hadn’t expected from a woman he was paying.
“Excuse me, sir. You didn’t know I was coming. How could you have a room prepared for me?”
Morgan paused, confused for a moment, but quickly remembered that Saint had told him Miss Goodbody was excellent at role playing. She could be any type of woman he wanted. Morgan wasn’t really into masquerades and mystique, even though it was the current rage in London Society. He was much too conventional to find pleasure in hiding behind a mask or pretending to be someone he was not. But if it made Miss Goodbody happy, he supposed he could play along with her for a little while, even though his head was throbbing, and playing games at this hour of the night was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Madame, surely you know that I always have a room ready in case an unexpected guest arrives at my house in the middle of the night.”
Her darkly fringed gaze searched his face, and her uneasiness became more noticeable as she threw another furtive glance toward the front door. For a moment Morgan thought she was going to bolt out of it.
“This is your house? Sir, I think I should leave immediately. Because of the fog and rain, I believe my driver has brought me to the wrong door.”
Another snag of concern caught in Morgan’s head, but he immediately dismissed it. Did she think to arouse him by acting the part of a skittish, innocent waif who had lost her way and ended up at his mercy? If so, she should have been on time. It was far too damned late in the evening for her antics of the damsel in distress to work for him.
“Don’t be coy,” he said, wanting to end her ruse and get on with the matter for which he’d hired her. “I’m afraid your acting abilities, while really quite good, are wasted on me. Now allow me to take your cloak so we can retire.”
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Amelia Grey grew up in a small town in the Florida Panhandle, and has been happily married to her high school sweetheart for more than thirty-five years.
Amelia has won the Booksellers Best Award, Aspen Gold Award, and Award of Excellence writing as Amelia Grey. Writing as Gloria Dale Skinner, she has won the Romantic Times Award for Love and Laughter, the Maggie Award, and the Affaire de Coeur Award for best historicals.
Her books have been featured in Doubleday and Rhapsody Book Clubs and have sold to many countries in Europe, and in Russia, China, and most recently in Indonesia and Turkey.
Amelia’s Rogues’ Dynasty series—A Duke to Die For, A Marquis to Marry, An Earl to Enchant, A Gentleman Never Tells, A Gentleman Says “I Do,” and The Rogue Steals a Bride are available at your favorite local or online bookstore.
Amelia likes flowers, candlelight, sweet smiles, gentle laughter, and sunshine.