The Curious Rogue Read Online Free Page B

day and pressed him harder as he neared his destination. Even memories of Teresa’s softly curved body and willing ways could not dispel this vague but stubborn dissatisfaction.
    Entering the house by the back door, Martin took the main staircase two steps at a time and strode purposefully down the corridor towards the master bedchamber.
    The powdered and painted demirep seated before the dressing table saw his image in her mirror. “Martin!” she squeaked in a strangled voice,
    “I did not mean to frighten you, my dear,” he said as he joined her and twined a curl about his finger. “Are you not happy to see me?”
    “But of course, my darling,” she said in an altered tone, her nervousness not quite concealed. “Why do you look at me so strangely?” Teresa managed a gurgling laugh as she rose and turned towards him.
    “Is something wrong? But you tease me, that is it. You have been gone so long. What did you bring me?” An avaricious gleam entered her eyes. Pausing, she deftly arched her back and raised a shoulder slightly so he could see the fullness of her breasts beneath her sheer dressing gown. She swayed enticingly, a beguiling smile upon her lips.
    “You are happy to see me?” she asked, twining her arms around his neck. “What did you bring me?” Her hands softly ruffled his black mane as his lips brushed hers.
    Martin tightened his hands about her waist. He pressed her away as he gazed at her powdered and rouged face, her eyes closed, lips awaiting him. A question appeared on his features. He hesitated only a moment before he pushed aside all doubt and fiercely claimed her lips.
    Drawing back later, Martin felt a faint disappointment, which he carefully concealed. Before he could speak, a sharp knock sounded on the door.
    “Teresa,” a plaintive male voice called.
    The woman in his arms gulped as Martin lifted an eyebrow disdainfully. “I have been gone a long time,” he noted as he slowly released her.
    “He don’t mean nothing to me, Martin, truly. I was just lonely,” Teresa whined.
    “I’ll send a settlement, my dear,” he told her as he walked to the door.
    “You were gone so long...”
    “You shall have no problem finding another protector, dear girl. Your ways are quite winning.” If you could but control your greed, he thought. It proved a common flaw in women all too oft.
    “Come in,” he said evenly, opening the door and greeting a startled young man. “The lady and I are finished,” he noted, and walked down the corridor, his back straight, his head up, his eyes and ears closed to the epitaphs being hurled at him by his once adoring mistress.
    In the street Martin mounted and prodded his beast to a trot. Achieving Piccadilly and Berkeley, he paid a beggar lad to take the horse to the nearest coaching yard. He also gave instructions and coin for its return to its owner. This done, he fled into the darkness, moving swiftly and silently among the alleyways.
    Entering a second house through the servants’ entrance, Martin unlocked another door just inside that entry, stepped into the small closet behind it, and relocked the door. The false back of the closet was opened and the upper floor reached through a secret passageway with ease gained from long practice. At the end of the corridor Martin released the lever on the false panel and eased his tall form through the small opening into a darkened room. In the shrouding darkness he stripped to the buff and tossed his clothing back into the secret corridor. By counting his steps he safely reached a large bed and pulled on the long, flowing robe which was lying on it.
    Martin moved to the bedside table and lit the candle upon it, then moved about the room lighting the lamps and wall sconces. The large bedchamber thus revealed seemed at odds with the tall, muscular man.
    The fine oak panels covering the walls had been bleached and were etched with delicate tracings of flowers and vines which had been painted in delicate shades.