Bronwyn Scott - London's Most Wanted Rake

From anyone else, it would have been a shot in the dark. From Channing, it wasn’t a lucky guess. ‘You always could read minds,’ Alina admitted ruefully. ‘I wanted to put myself in his sphere of influence.’ She could confess that much at least. It was no more than what he would have heard her shouting to the horse about as he came upon them.

Channing pushed off from the tree and came to stand in front of her. ‘Tut-tut, that’s almost a lie. As in I almost believe you, but not quite. Why would you do that when there’s no need? Your little flirtation at the table last night securely put you in his sphere of influence. Seymour noticed you. I told you that much on the veranda. Second, I am going to befriend him at the picnic, at your request, I might add. By nightfall you would have had your introduction just as you planned. Thus, there’s no need to further your efforts.’

At this declaration, Channing began to pace in front of her, giving her a fine view of long legs and tight buttocks encased in riding breeches, her absolute favourite piece of male attire. She was regretting not pulling him into the stream after all. The breeches would be spectacular wet. Other things would be spectacular, too.

‘What?’ Channing stopped his dissection of her motives, which were all too on the mark for her taste. She hated how he could see right through her. It was time to change that, time for him to be the one off balance for a change.

She closed the small distance between them and twined her arms about his neck, her voice low and sultry. ‘I was just thinking it’s been a while since I’ve seen you naked.’

‘It has been.’ Channing’s teeth nipped at the column of her neck. A tremor ran through her at the delicious contact. Her mouth claimed his in a long kiss full of tongues and tastes.

She pressed her hips lightly against his. ‘You’re wrong, you know, size does matter.’ He murmured something hot and husky against her neck and she reached for him through his breeches, intending to cup his length. But he stepped back.

‘I’m not that easy, comtesse. I’m sorry if you felt I was.’

‘What I felt wasn’t “easy,”’ Alina shot back, letting anger disguise her disappointment. The little interlude had been nice until he’d gone and ruined it along with her plans for distraction.

‘Perhaps I should clarify. When I said easy, I meant easily distracted.’ Channing returned to his tree and folded his arms, an amused smile playing across those kissable lips.

‘Can’t a girl just give a man satisfaction in the forest?’ Alina retorted. She would have been more coy about it if she thought it would have worked.

Channing laughed. ‘You never change. Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?’

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you explain what it is you think I’m doing and I’ll tell you if that’s right?’

‘I’ll do better than that. I’ll cut straight to the chase.’ He fixed her with an intense blue stare that would have singed lesser mortals. But Alina knew how to stand her ground against anyone, even handsome Englishmen who thought they had her best interests at heart.

‘Others would conclude your haste in rushing to Seymour’s attention is that you doubt my ability to get you the introduction. But that’s not it. It’s just the opposite. You know I’ll get that introduction and you’ve decided you don’t want me to. I wonder why? Am I close?’

‘Amery has more tact than you.’ Alina snorted. She pulled off his coat and handed it to him

‘Amery isn’t here. Perhaps that’s for the best. He doesn’t know you the way I do.’ He reached out and took his coat, but instead of taking it, he used it to tug her to him. His hands rested at her waist. When he spoke again the edge was gone from his voice. ‘Since I’ve known you, you’ve never let anyone help you. You rush your fences and not always for the best. There’s a difference between taking decisive action and being impulsive. You’re rushing your fences now with Seymour. I think you’re missing the potential consequences. It will not look good if you are too forward with him. You know what people will say.’

He meant the gossips—anyone looking for her to behave inappropriately would say she was throwing herself at Seymour. She knew Channing was right. She’d thought the same thing herself. It was why she’d decided to bring Amery to the house party. But the risk of Channing becoming too involved had outweighed her need for caution.

Alina shook her head. This was how he’d got to her the last time, pretending all this concern. ‘Don’t do this, Channing. One minute you’re castigating me for a little flirtation, the next you’re my sincere adviser. I have hired you to be neither.’ She tried to step away, but he held her fast. ‘The truth is, I’d rather not have you involved in this business I have with Seymour. You and I aren’t good together.’

‘Except in bed,’ came Channing’s answer, ‘and Lady Medford’s gardens, the Duke of Grafton’s library, that little closet in Lady Stanhope’s town house—do you remember the one, it was at the end of the hall on the second floor?’

‘Except in bed,’ she echoed, refusing to be goaded. He was simply mirroring her technique from last night of mixing business with reminders of pleasure, reminders of a time when she’d thought he was more than a hired escort. She held his hot eyes, letting his gaze burn her. What was in the past needed to stay there except for the lessons it had taught her.

‘I’m afraid, in this case, it won’t be enough.’ She had to be firm here or she’d regret it. She could not afford to let those lines blur again. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back and change out of these clothes.’

‘No, you don’t.’ A smile played across Channing’s mouth. ‘I had a spare outfit sent ahead to the picnic.’

‘When did you do that?’ The gesture touched her unexpectedly, but she couldn’t think of when he’d have had time to do it. He’d been in the drive with everyone else long before she’d arrived.

‘Do you remember that I had something to do before I could leave this morning?’ Channing was grinning now as he boosted her into the saddle. He swung into his own and winked. ‘I suspected you might be over-horsed.’

‘I was not over-horsed,’ Alina protested. But yes, she recalled he’d mentioned something about an errand. She remembered it just as clearly as she remembered that closet at Lady Stanhope’s.

Chapter Five

Channing was as good as his word. By the time Alina sat down at the tables for cards after dinner, all was in order. Channing had arranged to partner her while they played against Roland Seymour and a Mrs White from Richmond. It was the most subtle of organisations from which natural conversation and association could grow. She couldn’t have asked for a better opening. Seymour would have no reason to be suspicious of her motives.

But that didn’t make sitting down next to such a man any easier. It galled her that she had to sit there, concentrating on cards, laughing and pretending to have a good time, while all she wanted to do was strangle him, or call him out and expose him to the present company for the fraud he was. Strangling was unfortunately against the law. She wasn’t sure about ball-ripping though, there might be some potential there. Either way, torture would have to wait. She didn’t have the proof she needed, not yet. But she would soon. The house party was just the beginning of what she intended for Mr Roland Seymour, deceiver of widows and unsuspecting families. Under the table, Channing’s foot kicked her leg. ‘It’s your play, comtesse.’

‘Thank you, my mind must have wandered.’ She gave Seymour an apologetic half-smile and fingered the pearls at her neck while she studied the current trick in play. ‘Perhaps you could remind me what was led?’