Deborah Simmons by The Last Rogue (1998) Harlequin

Author:The Last Rogue (1998) Harlequin [Harlequin, The Last Rogue (1998)]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-01-07T07:35:36+00:00

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

provoke him.

Grinning, he wondered what his friends would say at the thought of anyone provoking Raleigh. He was

notoriously unprovokable, avoiding with equal ease both the meanest drunkards who attempted to call

him out and the power plays among the ton. Wycliffe would certainly never believe that his unassuming

sister-in-law had managed where the most obnoxious of losing gamesters had failed.

Startled by the thought, Raleigh dropped his hand abruptly. Gad, this strange adversarial relationship

with his wife didn't have deeper connotations, did it? Having watched more than one romance progress

fitfully, Raleigh was perhaps more aware than others of the foibles of human nature when it came to

matters of the heart

But this ? He shook his head ruefully. Certainly, he was becoming more attracted to his wife; it was only

natural, considering their close confinement. He was a man with healthy appetites that had not been

assuaged in a while, and he had a normal interest in people, but that was as far as it went.

Raleigh laughed shakily, discarding any lingering doubts with good humor. But, considering his recent

agitation, the thought of his empty bed was less than appealing. Instead of returning to it he lit a lantern he

had cadged from the kitchen and searched the room for his copy of the Ravenscars' new book. The

virtual isolation of Craven Hall provided for little in the way of amusement except reading, and he had

been doing so earlier. But the volume was not on the chair where he thought he had left it nor was it to be

found anywhere in the room.

Perhaps he had left it in the dining hall, the only other reasonably inhabitable space at Craven Hall.

Grinning, Raleigh realized that he had also left there a bottle of that exceptional burgundy brought from

the Four Posts in one of the hampers. Maybe he would go look for both, he thought, sliding his bare feet

into some slippers. He had no intention of ringing for Mrs. Graves; the thought of her appearance at this

hour was wholly terrifying. Nor did he wish to wake poor Antoine, who had worked like a slave and was

now snoring loudly in the dressing room.

Opening the door quietly, Raleigh struck out for the main part of the house. He was simply unused to

these country hours. In London, he would still be flitting from one ball to the next or dropping in at his

club or, if he had money, playing at one of the gambling dens. Why, it was prodigiously amazing that he

was not bored to death out here at the ends of the earth!

Yet, when he tried to imagine someplace he would rather be, Raleigh did not think of London, whose

joys had turned wearisome. He considered one of his friends' homes, but even the prospect of a cozy

fortnight at Casterleigh no longer pleased him. Oddly enough, he could not place himself anywhere else at

present.

The notion drew him up short, but he supposed the unusual circumstances enlivened things a bit, as did

the constant search for sustenance and creature comforts of any sort The necessity of survival was

certainly enough to keep a man on his toes.

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