What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(37)

Her saucy reply tickled him, but he’d better focus on the work. He lit one of the lanterns and escorted her up two flights of steps to the attic. The dormer window was grimy, but he set the lantern on a scarred table. He put his hands on his hips and looked around. Then he made his way past several trunks. “Ah, just what we need.”

When he returned to her, he held carpet pieces. “We can kneel on these.”

“Very handy,” she said.

He pointed at one trunk in the corner. “That is the one I went through yesterday. The strap is broken, and there’s nothing of value to me.”

“I imagine the servants or tenants would appreciate the yarn, quills, and handkerchiefs.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here, because I was ready to toss it all in the rubbish bin.”

He pushed a heavy trunk forward. The muscles in his upper arms strained. She placed one of the carpets before a trunk and knelt, but her eyes kept returning to his bulging biceps. She fumbled with the straps, mostly because she couldn’t take her gaze off him.

He interrupted her ogling and strode over to her. “Let me unbuckle them.”

She stood just as he took a step, and she bumped into him. He caught her shoulders, and there could not have been more than a few inches between them. The moment suspended as their gazes met. His big hands were warm and strong. Her toes curled in her slippers.

“Pardon me,” he said, stepping aside.

She released her pent-up breath. Dear God, did he rub a secret bait salve on himself to lure unsuspecting females? While she continued to recover from their physical encounter, he worked on the straps of a trunk as if he were completely oblivious to her.

When he tried to open the trunk, he muttered something under his breath, likely a curse. “It’s locked.” He straightened his tall frame. “I’ll go down to the kitchen and see if there is anything I can use as a lever.”



He left the attic door open as he strode down the corridor. She released a ragged breath. Sanity returned slowly. She was not attracted to him. Not at all. Liar. Granted, she would have to be dead not to notice the bulging muscles in his arms and his incredibly muscular thighs. But she could not, would not allow her attraction to him to bloom. It would be madness. She’d fallen under one rake’s spell, and she wouldn’t make that mistake again.


God help her. Angeline thought a few prayers might be in order for her salvation.

She needed distraction from thoughts of Colin’s all-too-enticing athletic body. Angeline walked through the crowded attic to force her thoughts elsewhere. There was an old bookcase with scratches in the wood—a tenant might find that useful. She located a pair of scales, a flask, and a sword propped up against the far wall. There was a bust, too. She removed her gloves and fingered the smooth marble. Was it his grandfather?

When she turned, she happened upon a tall wig in a box. It reminded her of her late great-grandmother. Why in the world did the ladies back then wear those horrendous wigs? They were truly hideous and probably hot as well. What a lark it would be to don the wig and surprise Colin. She would no doubt startle a laugh out of him when she pranced around in a ridiculously high wig.

She started to reach inside the box to extract the wig. Then something moved. A mouse poked its beady nose out. She jumped back and screamed.



Colin walked up the stairs with a big mallet. He figured he could break the lock with it. He reached the second landing, and a scream sent him running. His heart stampeded as he ran. The devil. What if Angeline had fallen and gotten hurt?

She turned the corner and ran toward him. Relief flooded his veins. He dropped the mallet and caught her in his arms. “Are you hurt?”

She was shaking uncontrollably. “N-no. The-there w-was a m-mouse in the w-wig.”

“Oh, Lord.” He held her tightly, relieved to find her unharmed. “You scared me.”

She clutched him. “Stupid m-mouse.”

“Hush now. You’ve had a fright.” She shivered again, and without thought, he caressed her spine. Eventually her trembling subsided, and he was all too aware of her soft, feminine body pressed against him. When his groin tightened, he knew he’d better put distance between them, and he reluctantly released her.

“I’m so mortified,” she said, looking up at him.

“You needn’t be.”

She looked at the mallet. “What in heaven’s name were you planning to do with that?”

“Break the lock on the trunk.”

“Oh.” She frowned and worried her hands. “I suppose we should return to the attic.”

He laughed and picked up the mallet. “Angeline, I’m fairly certain the attic is the last place you wish to go. Tomorrow I’ll bring a mousetrap or two.”

“There’s so much to do,” she said. “I feel badly for slowing our progress.”

“One day will not make that much difference,” he said. “By the way, did you find anything of value in the bedchambers yesterday?”

She hesitated. “I went through all the rooms.”

“Why are you hedging?”

“There’s a nursery,” she said.

His neck prickled. “Where is it?”

“Colin, don’t go in there.”

He set the mallet down and started opening doors. She followed him. “I’m sorry. I should have told you yesterday.”