The Rogue's Reluctant Rose Read Online Free Page B

faint smile as she opened it gently. In a moment she was lost. It was a tale of horror and adventure, in the style of Mrs Ann Radcliffe. As she ventured out into the world of the novel along with the heroine, Araminta was vaguely aware of the tinkling of a little bell, suggesting the arrival of new customers into the shop. A murmured greeting followed, but Araminta paid it no heed as she perused the book.
    It promised to be a wonderful story. She knew that she ought not purchase any books. The family finances were in such straits that she ought to save every penny of her own small income. With a sigh, Araminta made to close the slim volume.
    “I admire your choice in literature, Miss Barrington,” a velvety voice said into her ear, startling her and making her jump. A shiver of recognition went down Minta’s spine and she spun around, fighting the flush that spread across her face.
    “Lord Chestleton,” she stammered, finding him much closer to her than was appropriate. She could feel warmth emanating from him, and a scent of spice and leather. Her flush deepening, Araminta tried to edge farther away in the confined space, furtively looking around to check that none witnessed their compromising situation. Chestleton watched her with a roguish smirk on his sensuously thin lips.
    “My dear Miss Barrington, I wonder what could have put you so decidedly out of sorts. I say, you’re quite disconcerted.”
    Araminta stopped backing away long enough to look at him with wide midnight-blue eyes. She felt the prickles of irritation at his obvious mirth. Here she was, trying to save both of their reputations from social disgrace, and he had the gall to stand there and smirk.
    Chestleton found that he enjoyed the way her eyes flashed in anger, and the way her rosy mouth tightened so as not to say anything inappropriate. There was a veneer of very tight control over Araminta Barrington, both in her actions and words. He had a feeling that she had quite a lot to say to him, and was just as certain that she would say none of it. He was fascinated by the woman underneath her polished facade. He could only imagine how devastatingly lovely she would be if she were to lose her control. It was a pity she clung to it so determinedly. Chestleton, however, loved nothing so much as a challenge.
    “I am not in the least disconcerted, my lord,” said Araminta in a chilly voice, returning her book to the shelf and wishing furiously that he would move away. She was backed as far against the shelves as she could go, and she could not escape the narrow space without brushing up against him. His proximity made her light-headed and weak-kneed, as she had only been once, as a girl of fifteen, when she and her brother had stolen a bottle of their father’s champagne, and sampled it in the music room. “I am, however, appalled that you would take a lady as unawares as you have done. You gave me a fright.”
    “Did I really? Apologies, I’m sure, my dear,” he murmured, not looking apologetic in the least. “I meant merely to give my regards. I saw you in the street, you know, walking with your friends, before you vanished into this fine establishment. I’m certain that you could not have seen me , else you would not have disappeared so quickly, and I felt it only my duty as a gentleman to pay my respects.”
    Araminta had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew perfectly well that she had seen him out in the street. More unsettlingly, she suspected that he had a very good inkling as to why she had really gone into the shop. She carefully kept whatever of her composure remained.
    “Did you? You flatter me, my lord. And now, I daresay my friends are looking for me. I promised not keep them long, and I must return. If you would excuse me?” Araminta knew that it was only a matter of time before someone came into the back of the shop and saw them. If that should happen, she knew that she would be ruined.
    “I would not dream of keeping you, my