Oh My Laird!: A Risqué Regency Romance Read Online Free

sarcastic, Mr. McPherson? If so I shall be quite cross.”
    He snorted. “You’re never quite cross, Miss DeVere. You’re bloody furious and mad enough to spit nails through a horseshoe right now. You’re a woman who knows the power of her appearance, all right. And you’re angry as hell that someone has stolen your bauble, which I can understand, given what it’s worth.”
    He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to respond. “Don’t bother with the protestations. That ruby has been a bloody fortune hanging around your neck. And right now you’d take the guineas over the necklace faster than a cat can lick its ear. So let’s have that truth between us. I’ll do what I can to find the damn thing, with or without your help. But you can stop trying to assess whether I’m being seduced by your beauty, and whether you can use me in some way. The answer to both is no. I’m a good Bow Street Runner and I’ll do the job. What I won’t do is fall under your spell. Are we quite clear on that?”
    Amelia opened her mouth and shut it again, stunned at the lecture she’d just received. Her brain whirled, her temper screamed silently behind her ears and if there had been a sharp sword to hand, McPherson would have been gutted and bleeding on the Axminster carpet before the last word left his mouth.
    Then she caught herself up. Never play their game by their rules, Amelia.
    She smiled, keeping it sweet, soft and feminine. “Well now, Mr. McPherson. I do believe you have just issued a challenge. And one I accept with enthusiasm.”
    She straightened in her chair again, knowing that particular move would throw her breasts into prominence. “Now. Shall we begin that list of my potential enemies?”
     
    *~~*~~*
     
    It was over an hour later when Ian escaped what he could only describe as a torturous interview. He had allowed his own emotions to lead him down an unwise path, which Miss DeVere now viewed as a delightful game. Him and his big mouth and his short Scottish temper.
    Being a male, her attacks had left him aroused, irritated and resolved to never be alone with her again.
    Her breasts, creamy white and full, had dazzled him as she leaned forward to spell a name or offer a suggestion. Her lips were rich and sensual and when she licked them, he could see a vision of those lips wrapped around a part of him that was responding with a strong suggestion that he pursue the notion.
    Every gesture was an invitation, every slight shift of her body a temptation. She was skilled at the art of seducing men, he knew. It was whether she would succeed in seducing him that bothered him as he walked away from DeVere House and into the late morning fog that refused to lift from the streets of London.
    Forcing his mind from her body and back to the case, he pondered the list he’d assembled of those people she felt might be antagonistic enough to wish her harm.
    She’d been honest there, he believed. Listing her enemies seemed to bring what he might call a perverse pleasure. As if she was proud of the number of her social peers she’d managed to insult, offend or otherwise piss off.
    It hadn’t escaped his notice that they were nearly all women. Which, under the circumstances, he didn’t find surprising.
    But that also begged the question of whether a woman would actually pursue her revenge to the point of organizing this theft.
    He just couldn’t get his head to accept that.
    And reaching Bow Street and his own desk, he spent the better part of the rest of the day in deep conversation with himself trying to figure out why.
    As he left for the day, no further along from where he began, Ian realized that his instincts were in play. They were strongly insisting that this crime, the calculated theft and consequent disappearance of an extremely valuable piece, was very personal . More so than just an “ I’m doing this because you slept with my husband ” sort of revenge crime.
    He’d had some experience with those, and found