Conspiring with a Rogue Read Online Free Page A

and a new start maybe happiness would come.

    Several hours later, after passing the Sainted Order’s ridiculous initial test for membership, Drake reclined on the settee in the private bedroom where he was awaiting the prize that would help him become a new man. Happy people relaxed, so he went through the motions. Leaned back with one leg crossed over the other, he still didn’t feel happy, but he was determined to stick to his plan until he damn well began to feel at least less depressed. Candles blazed from every corner of the room, casting shadows on the wall.
    Whitney had loved candles. The pathetic thought made him groan. When would he quit ruminating over a woman who had left him? The bedroom door creaked open, saving him from answering his sorry question. A woman slipped into the bedroom, adorned in a costume of sheer gold. She jingled as she padded barefoot across the hardwood floors and knelt before the settee he was lounging on.
    A black mask covered most of her face, except for her light blue eyes. If her eyes had been amber as Whitney’s were, he was certain he would have bolted. Unease over bedding another woman coiled through him. He felt like he was betraying Whitney, though why escaped him. She was the betrayer. He’d been faithful every day since the day he had met her, and the entire six months since she had left him. He was a fool.
    The woman smiled tentatively while motioning for him to lie back. He complied immediately. He had not expected to forget Whitney completely just because he was with another woman, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected thoughts of Whitney to be bombarding him once another woman was standing half-naked in front of him. But they were. The woman smelled nothing like Whitney, but the contrast only served to remind him exactly what Whitney had smelled like. He loved her lavender scent.
    He clenched his teeth, forcing his mind away from her and to the curvaceous, glistening skin leaning over him. His partner for the night ran her warm hands over his bare chest, surprising him. He tensed in response. This was not an auspicious start to becoming a rake. He leaned into her deft hands and allowed her to knead his skin.
    In just a minute, he was sure to become aroused. These things likely took a little time after such a long stretch of celibacy. He closed his eyes determined to enjoy the moment, but a vision of Whitney as he had last seen her, dressed in a simple white lawn dress with a pink rose tucked behind her right ear, filled his head. With a grunt, he opened his eyes and sat up. He needed to commence being a rake at once. He caught the woman’s hands in his. “Can we skip the formalities?”
    She nodded, a beautiful smile turning the corners of her full mouth up. He was glad for the club’s rule of silence from the women. He had thought it barbaric when he’d first heard the rule, but at this moment he had no ability to make civil conversation. All his will was focused on trying to forget the woman he loved and enjoy the woman he was about to bed.
    The woman stood and dropped her gown to reveal a body any sane man would lust for. He must be crazy. Why else would he still feel nothing? She glided to the bed, and he followed, his heart beating a slow thud. What if he couldn’t perform?
That
would be embarrassing.
    The woman lay on the bed, her creamy skin a stark contrast against the crimson silk coverlet. He leaned over her as she motioned him closer with a crook of her finger. She wanted him, and he needed to want her. He willed desire to come, but it was taking its own damn time tonight. Cursing himself, he lowered himself to kiss her, but she stilled him with a hand to his chest.
    Gesturing to her hair, she reached up and pulled off the dark scarf covering her locks. Waves of flaxen hair fell around her face. Of all the cursed, bad luck . He stared down at the woman, but all he could see was Whitney, her golden hair caressing her bare shoulders as she danced with