One Rogue Too Many by Samantha Grace Page B

brought for Gabby. She afforded him a curious glance but didn’t allow his presence to disrupt her mission.
    When she disappeared through a doorway leading to the conservatory, he forced himself to stay put. He couldn’t follow and expect the chit wouldn’t notice. Several moments later, the maid reappeared empty-handed. This time she gawked as she slowly crossed the marble floor.
    Anthony readjusted his hat and reached for the door handle. “I must be off now. Good day.”
    He opened the door as if he was leaving, then quietly closed it again when the servant was gone. Before anyone else discovered him skulking about, he strode toward the conservatory, where he was sure Gabby was practicing her art.
    Her back was to him, her head bent over her drawing as he entered. Her hand flew across the page in fast, graceful strokes. His throat suddenly felt tight. When had he last watched her sketch? Perhaps around the time his mother had died.
    Gabby was so intent on whatever she was drawing she hadn’t realized he was there. Sunlight streamed through the windows, igniting the auburn in her dark hair. The color was always subtle and unexpected.
    “Beautiful,” he murmured.
    She gasped and twisted around on the settee. Her rosebud lips were parted and all he could think about was kissing them until they were swollen and pliable.
    “Anthony.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. She tossed her sketch aside and shoved it under a pillow. “I thought you’d left.”
    He pulled the door closed, then sauntered toward the settee. Her fingers clutched the charcoal as she looked up with wide gray eyes. Corby had been correct. She was an orchid among common roses, exotic and intriguing. God, how he had missed her.
    He smiled. “I came to see you. Why would I leave before I’ve accomplished my aim? It is good to see you again, my love.”
    He sat beside her and she quickly scooted over to create a sliver of space between them. He could still feel her body heat, however, and revel in her lingering perfume. Lavender. The scent was fiery and soft all at once. It suited her.
    Her knuckles were turning white from gripping the charcoal.
    He affectionately bumped her shoulder with his as he’d done many times. It was his way of telling her everything was all right.
    “Cat got your tongue? I’ve never known you to be this quiet.”
    She pursed her lips. “You seem uncommonly concerned with my tongue, my lord. First it is too sharp and now you insinuate I’ve become a mute.”
    “Well, you just disproved the latter, but I maintain you have a sharp tongue,” he said with a wink.
    “The better to give you a proper dressing-down for stealing into the conservatory when I am not properly chaperoned. What are you doing here?”
    “Aren’t we beyond the need for a chaperone?” He reached for her hand, but she pushed to her feet and hugged her arms around her body.
    “And why is that, Lord Ellis? Correct me if I’m wrong, but we are not betrothed. You missed your appointment with my brother weeks ago.”
    He winced. Although he had known he would have to answer for his prolonged absence, he hadn’t expected to be scolded. “I promised to return, and here I am.”
    “You promised to return before Easter, and there was no word from you. Did you expect me to read your mind to know you would be late?”
    “I expected you to trust me.”
    “Trust you.” She shook her head and walked to the window, presenting her back. “It wouldn’t have been the first time you misled me.”
    He sighed. “Not this again. We aren’t children any longer. When are you going to stop holding me accountable for things I did as a boy?”
    She glared over her shoulder, then turned back to the window. Well, one of them was no longer a child.
    His gaze slid down her narrow back and tapered waist, and feasted on the roundness of her hips. No, she was definitely all grown now. The realization that she was a woman and no longer a little girl had hit him at