The Last Rogue
10TH ANNIVERSARYRaleigh Hadn't Gambled On Finding A Virgin In His Bed - but when he awoke next to Jane Trowbridge, he knew all bets for bachelorhood were off. Now, instead of a love match, he'd gotten a sparring partner. Jane had never imagined herself anyone's lawfully wedded wife, and now ironic fate had bound her to a hedonistic viscount who was a Tulip of the Ton.Still, could a man who only pursued pleasure find any pleasure pursuing her? And could she restrain her maidenly blushes long enough to let him… ?
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10>TH ANNIVERSARY
Special thanks to our well-wishers, who have contributed their congratulations and support.
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For Jennifer Lynn, with love
“Jane, you imp, you have read some of those horrid novels, after all!”
Raleigh accused with a wicked grin.
Jane found herself standing motionless as he approached her with more purpose than she had ever seen before. For a moment, she simply stared at him warily, then, recovering slightly, she backed away, only to find herself up against one of the stacks of old London Times that reached well above her head.
He descended on her with the look of a wolf, his eyes heavy lidded, his smile at once both beguiling and dangerous. Leaning forward, he rested one hand on either side of her head, trapping her between them, and Jane felt a startling rush of excitement. She had always thought of Raleigh as a vain, useless sort, but she was coming to realize that he possessed a power that went beyond his charm.
And now he looked positively lethal!
“Ahhh!”
Deverell Fairfax, Viscount Raleigh, turned over, his head pounding viciously as a hideous shriek was followed by a tremendous clatter. What the devil? His servants had orders not to wake him before noon, and as he cracked one eye open he saw a flood of light that looked suspiciously like early-morning sun through bright yellow draperies.
His lashes drifted closed once more, shutting out the worst of the light, while he attempted to regain his blissful state of slumber, but the hammering in his temples continued unabated and a thundering of footsteps echoed outside his chamber. Dash it all, who is here? he thought groggily. Better yet, where was here? For as he came more awake, Raleigh became distinctly aware that his surroundings were not those of his London town house.
Turning onto his back, Raleigh blinked at the ceiling, where vaguely familiar saffron and blue silk hangings slowly came into focus. The faint scent of flowers made him wonder if he were not in a lady’s chamber. Gad, he could not recall. Putting a hand to his aching forehead, he racked his brain. He remembered receiving a summons from his father and drowning his displeasure in a bottle or two. Or three.
Lud, he must have gotten completely foxed. He had been lonely, missing all of his friends, now married, and he had decided he would much rather see one of them than his parents, and so he had taken off in a hired coach, without his valet or any servants. Had he even packed a trunk?
Raleigh groaned. Lifting his fingers from his throbbing temples, he stretched out an arm, groping among the bedclothes for some sign of a companion who might enlighten him. When his questing hand found someone, he blinked in her direction, but all he saw was a lumpy form covered in blankets. Had he worn the poor woman out during the night that she slept so soundly, or was she suffering the ill effects of imbibing as well as he?
