An Unforgettable Rogue by Annette Blair Page B

had always worshipped him, to the point that she might pay him back in kind.
    Let him ache to have her and see her walk away.
    To do that, she would have to make him think she wanted him, until he wanted her as desperately. Then, when she was certain of his adoration, she could tell him of her coldhearted plan to even the score between them. Better yet, she would get one of her friends, or his, to do the telling.
    Let him see how that felt.
    Then she could walk away.

CHAPTER NINE

    Alex sat up in the bed, for it seemed, at once, obvious and clear, that only after Hawk understood how much he had hurt her would they be free to go forward with their marriage on an equal footing. In which case, seducing him just might turn out to be the smartest plan she had ever hatched … and she had hatched several noteworthy schemes in her time.
    She would do it, she thought, as she lay back against her pillows. As soon as she figured out how one went about conducting a seduction, she would begin a captivating campaign.
    Alex smiled in the darkness, wishing she knew who she could ask about seductions in general.
    When Chesterfield had embraced and kissed her, sometimes at length, he would tremble and close his eyes, as if against pain, and tell her that he wanted her. When she questioned him, he promised that after their wedding, he would teach her everything about married love, to set her as afire for him as he was for her.
    If she had married him yesterday, she might now be receiving her second lesson.
    Alexandra knew from her lack of regret that she must be in a bad way, for she did not pine for Chesterfield or his lessons. No, she had rather lie needy beside Hawksworth till the end of her days, than be set afire in Chesterfield’s arms even once.
    She rolled to her side to regard her husband, his marred, but no less striking features lit by the moon. He may no longer be perfect of face, but no woman capable of drawing breath would be able to resist his air of masculine danger and denied vulnerability. Especially not she, who had been unable to resist him at his arrogant worst, or best, however one considered it.
    Then again, had there not always been something of a hurt-boy vulnerability about him, which had simply risen to prominence with his scars from the war?
    Lord, had nothing changed? She loved him. She wanted to protect him, to heal his hurts.
    She desired him.
    His topaz eyes still shown more than the jewels themselves, especially when he gazed at her pensively or furiously, as if he wanted nothing more than to set her over his knee—the delicious way he appeared when she said she would live in sin with Chesterfield.
    Alex shivered.
    At the inn along the way, when Bryce left her to go upstairs and refresh himself, she noticed that he was as small of waist, as broad of shoulders, and as firm of bottom as ever—good form for a man, in her estimation. And in his black brocade dressing gown tonight, which formidable sight stole her breath, as he snuffed the candle, she could not help think him the most tantalizing rogue she ever hoped to make her own.
    She tried to touch his leg with her foot, just then, but she could not quite reach. Sliding surreptitiously closer, so as not to awaken him, she stretched and tried again, but encountered his dressing gown.
    Moving closer still, Alex slid her toes beneath the brocade silk and touched his bare foot.
    He stirred.
    She stilled, her heart beating as fast as a careening carriage.
    After a minute, she moved her seeking foot further upward, a bit past his ankle and toward his calf.
    Bryce moaned. Alex warmed. This could work.
    Afraid to go further, lest she rouse the self-proclaimed beast, she was cheered nonetheless by the possibility of seduction as a form of vengeance, which came very near—in her mind—to eating one’s sweetmeats and keeping them, too.
    With a smile on her lips, Alex slipped as near Bryce as she dared, without disturbing him, to savor the simple joy of sleeping