While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(43)

She suddenly felt hot and achy inside. She called a halt to such provoking thoughts, desperate to banish them. It was wrong to compare the two brothers. They were night and day. She walked a bit faster so that his hand fell away from her back, severing their contact.

Only one man deserved her affection and he was lost to a coma.





Chapter 16




Struan imagined this was what it felt like to be a spider when a tasty bit of prey stumbled into its web. He watched Poppy settle herself on the seat across from him. She shifted several times as though she could not find a comfortable position—all the while avoiding his gaze. It almost made him smile.

He had her alone again. He knew she had not anticipated his arrival—she especially did not anticipate he would be joining them for the holiday at Autenberry’s family seat. He’d seen the brief flash of shock on her face when he entered the room, followed by panic.

She thought she was done with him. She thought she wouldn’t have to see him again. She had hoped that. Even if she didn’t want it.

She stared out the window, fidgeting and pushing an errant strand of hair back off her cheek. She might think she wanted that, but he knew better. Last night had not been a chance occurrence. It had been real. She’d wanted him as much as he wanted her. Tension still hummed between them. Even now, watching her, his gaze narrowed on the madly thrumming pulse at her neck. She was aware of him. She only wanted to appear unaffected. He simply had to show her that pretending around him wasn’t going to work.

She might belong to Autenberry, but she wasn’t immune to Struan.

And Autenberry wasn’t here. He was.

He cleared his throat. Her gaze remained fixed on the window.

“Miss Fairchurch?”

He scowled. She still didn’t look his way. Stubborn chit.

If he didn’t want her to look at him so very much he would find humor in the situation. His irritation grew. She’d avoided looking at him during lunch, but he thought that would come to an end once he had her in his carriage. He had plans for them during this carriage ride and it didn’t consist of silence between them. Deciding to provoke her into looking at him, he said, “I imagine spending Christmas at Autenberry Manor will be quite the treat for you, Miss Fairchurch.”

He succeeded.

Her gaze snapped to his and he felt a hot zing of triumph.

“Whatever do you mean?” she demanded hotly.

“Just what I said. Christmas at Autenberry’s family estate . . . quite the coup for a girl who works in a flower shop.”

She released a huff of breath. “I am sure it will be quite lovely. Not as lovely as it could be if the duke himself were present for it.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I agree. That would make it far more . . . interesting.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Indeed. I can just imagine the two of you together. Singing carols. Trimming the tree. The best of friends. Brothers.”

He chuckled at her sneering tone. She meant to bait him in return. Little did she know that he had ceased to suffer years ago at the hands of his family—if he could even call them such. His father’s rejection had been the deepest cut. What was one half brother’s rebuff?

“It would be an occasion, to be certain,” he agreed mildly, his gaze sliding over her. She was modestly attired, covered in that worn and threadbare cloak. He remembered the weight of her thighs in his hands, even through all the voluminous fabric of her dress, and felt a stirring in his cock. “We shall have to endeavor to have an interesting time while he recuperates.”

Her nostrils flared. “That will be challenging.” Her voice came out tight and offended.

“I think we can do it.” He let the words hang between them, his double meaning clear. “In fact, we can begin, if you like, by making this carriage ride more interesting.”

There. Now she knew. He wasn’t so loyal to Autenberry that he would not pursue her. In fact, he wasn’t loyal to Autenberry at all. It wasn’t in his nature to deny himself something he wanted. And he wanted her.

“You’re incorrigible.” She let out a huff of breath and wrenched her gaze back to the window.

He chuckled again, satisfied that he had planted the seed in her mind. It would grow.

The invitation was there. She need only take it.



Alone in a carriage with Struan Mackenzie was every bit the bad idea she feared it would be. It was too late, however. Her sister was already gone in the carriage with the duchess and the other girls. Unless she wanted to jump from a moving carriage, Poppy was stuck. Alone with a man who was much too dangerous to her senses.

And he was dangerous. Just because she didn’t fear for her life did not mean he posed no threat. There was more than one way to pose a danger. She had their time in the alleyway to serve as a constant reminder of that.

Shivering, she burrowed deeper into her cloak.

“Here.” He lifted the great fur blanket off the seat beside him and unfolded it. Shaking it out slightly, he draped it over her.

She shook her head. She wasn’t shivering because of the cold, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t be stubborn. I can hear your teeth clacking. You need a new cloak. This one is worn thin.”

“It was my mother’s.” She lifted her chin, an undeniable edge of defensiveness creeping into her voice.