Rhonda Woodward by Moonlightand Mischief

told. But it is too late for you to revert to the vaporish miss I thought you to be. Odd, but I find it quite refreshing that there is at least one person in my home with whom I do not have to pretend to be something I am not.”
    They continued to walk side by side while Mariah contemplated what he had just said.
    “Were you pretending to be something you are not with Lady Walgrave?” she could not help asking.
    “Of course, and she would not have it otherwise.”
    Mariah took her time digesting this startling comment. She could not believe for a moment that he had not thoroughly enjoyed kissing Lady Walgrave. “But what were you pretending?”
    “That I find her utterly irresistible, for one thing.”
    Mariah only half suppressed her disbelieving laugh. “It certainly looked as if you found her irresistible.”
    Mariah felt, rather than saw, him shrug. “For the moment I find her amusing and accommodating.”
    “How horrid. In what other ways do you pretend?” She knew her tone did not have its previous sting. Admittedly, she found this conversation quite fascinating—when would she ever again have the chance to speak candidly to an unmitigated rakehell?
    “With most women I pretend to be brooding and dangerous. I have discovered that ladies respond quite delightfully to brooding and dangerous.”
    A frisson of awareness traveled down her spine as the memory of his arms tightening around Lady Walgrave came to mind.
    “But you
are
brooding and dangerous.” It surprised her that he would say otherwise.
    “Do you think so?” he asked, his tone untroubled. “I would not hurt a flea. Although I am a dab hand with the foil, if I say so myself.”
    Throwing her arms up impatiently, Mariah said, “Not
that
kind of danger—not physical danger. You are the kind of dangerous that mamas warn their daughters about. You are the kind of man who will attempt to steal a lady’s heart for sport. Once the thrill of the hunt is over, you will toss the lady aside, uncaring of her heart or her reputation.”
    “Egad.” His deep, mild voice reached her as they came to a halt within the moonless shadow of the house. “I hope I am not that callow. Besides, I only dally with married ladies.”
    “Well! Then that makes everything just fine.”
    “You are quite attached to sarcasm, aren’t you?”
    Mariah shrugged. “Yes, to my mother’s lament. I try not to indulge in front of strangers.”
    “So with me you can set aside your demure fac¸ade and be yourself as well. Odd as it seems, I believe we have come to an understanding, Miss Thorncroft.”
    She realized, to her surprise, that she felt the same. “I believe we have,” she replied softly.
    They resumed walking until they had reached the double doors that she had used earlier. Hesitating, for she felt strangely disappointed that their conversation was about to end, she said, “I shall bid you good night, my lord, and thank you for a most interesting conversation.”
    Reaching down, he lifted her hand to his lips. “The pleasure was mine. Pleasant dreams, Miss Thorncroft.”
    Pulling away, she slipped past him through the open door and rushed to the staircase.
    As she ascended the steps, she rubbed her hands vigorously over her arms, feeling the gooseflesh beneath the heavy sleeves. With a little shiver, she knew that the condition had nothing to do with the chilly autumn evening.

Chapter Six
    Walking through the hushed, dark halls, Stone bypassed the staircase that led to his bedchamber and continued on to the library.
    Shutting the doors behind him, he crossed the room to a large burled walnut cabinet and poured himself a shallow brandy.
    With a contemplative frown, he replaced the crystal stopper, then moved to the massive fireplace. Resting his foot on the brass fender, he stared into the flames, watching the massive logs burn. His well-trained servants always kept this room at the ready for him.
    “Well, I am a bit surprised to see you still up. Mind if I join