All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(22)

            He made his way down the long corridor, seeing a faint glimmer of light at the end, where the hallway opened up to the stairs that wound down into the foyer. Before Will or Dec married, they would have just been getting a start at this hour. Domesticated bliss. He snorted. They could have it. Perhaps he should make a visit to Sodom. The night would just be getting started there.

            Rounding the corner, he collided with another body, smaller than his own. His chin struck something hard and he cursed, pain rocketing along his already tender jaw. He instinctively reached out to steady the body. A female, he knew at once. His hands slid around her back, bringing her closer. Even in a dimly lit corridor, he identified the softness of her form, the flowery fragrance of hair, the sweet catch of her breath.

            Perhaps it was his mood. The nip of loneliness chasing him after being reprimanded by his friends. He flexed his fingers against her back. The thin cotton of a nightgown filled his palms. Womanly hips nestled against his hardness and his cock stirred.

            He narrowed his gaze, peering through the gloom, sweeping over the fall of unbound hair, darkly rich and long. Neither Rosalie nor Violet possessed hair so dark. Instantly assured of that, he permitted his hands to travel slowly up her back.

            “My apologies,” he murmured, his fingers playing along the line of her spine. A servant girl not abed, then. Perhaps she would be amenable to his company.

            “Max?”

            He froze, recognition slicing through him. No . . .

            He closed a hand on her arm and dragged her toward the top of the stairs where the light bled brighter from a nearby sconce.

            “Aurelia.” He breathed her name like an epithet and quickly dropped his hand from her as though burned.

            A quick survey confirmed she was indeed only wearing a night rail. The loose garment concealed her from neck to ankle, but he was acutely aware that only a thin veil of lawn covered her curves.

            Swallowing a curse, he jerked his gaze back to her face, wishing he could unsee her body. Unfeel it. “Why are you not abed?” he demanded.

            He glanced left and right as though expecting her brother to materialize from the woodwork. Rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, he tried to shut off his awareness of her standing before him in only a thin layer of fabric.

            “Me? This is my h-home.” She stammered a bit at this last word, as though it stuck in her throat. “Why are you still here?”

            “Merely took a moment to lick my wounds after a set-down from your brother and cousin.”

            “Oh.”

            “ ‘Oh’? Is that all you have to say? I thought you would relish that. No applause, brat? No words of smug satisfaction? I know how much you enjoy knocking me down a peg.”

            She shook her head, and the light from the sconce caught in her hair, gilding it to fire in certain spots.

            Against his will, his gaze skimmed her body again. Heat flamed his face as he noted the swell of her breasts against the fabric of her nightgown. Even after his brain shouted at him to look away, his eyes made out the dusky shadow of her nipples.

            Heat scored him. This was Aurelia. Will’s vexing little sister.

            Only not so little anymore.

            He could not pretend otherwise. He’d first noticed that when he faced her amid her mother’s garden party years ago. But it was too late then.

            And it was much too late now.

            “Do you always make it a habit to stroll the house at night in your bedclothes?” he snapped.

            Hot color flooded her face. “Should I not? I’ve no one to fear in my brother’s home. At least that was my assumption.”