Page 49 of To Catch A Rogue

Charlie stared after her as she sauntered down the hallway. There was no way she was going to get naked with him in the cellar. This was a bluff.

And if so, he was going to call it.

"Let me wake one of the servants," he said. "Then I'll be with you directly."

He found a footman snuffing candles in one of the hallways and requested a message be sent to Gemma to let the others know they were all right.

And then he turned and went after Lark, finding her opening doors near the baths.

"This one," he said, opening the door. "After you, my lady."

Steam curled through the air. The heated pools were truly a marvel. Whoever owned the place had spent a fortune on boilers so the water would be a constant temperature. This was luxury on a scale he couldn't quite conceive of.

Enormous marble columns supported the domed roof, and moonlight spilled through the windows in the dome. The pool was rectangular in shape, but the stone edges were rounded and not quite square; the pool itself had been crafted many, many years before the rest of the structure, he suspected.

"Well, here we are." Charlie slid his hands into his pockets as he waited for Lark to finish examining the room. "Towels are in that cupboard over there."

Lark turned her back and swept the ragged remains of her hair over one shoulder. The night's efforts had obliterated the elegant chignon Gemma had created, but she looked more herself this way. "Could you undo my buttons?"

He stared at the little row of pearls trailing up her spine. Even now he could still make out the splash of red silk that was all that remained of the dress. The request seemed dangerous in a way he couldn't quite figure out. He'd set the game into motion, but somehow she'd turned it on its head.

He was definitely losing this battle.

"Of course."

Charlie forced himself to swallow the hard lump in his throat and started on her top buttons. He had hands that could coax the secrets out of even the most stubborn lock, but right now his fingers felt thick and fumbling.

They'd wrestled a hundred times over the years.

Curled together in bed when she had a nightmare and snuck into his room.

So many incidental touches over the years that this should have been merely another.

But the merest brush of her skin against his felt like he could feel that same touch down the length of his cock.

"You certainly won't get a job as a lady's maid." Despite the mockery, her words came out slightly breathless.

"What a damned shame."

"One would think you'd worked your way around your fair share of ladies’ garments. Surely you're not fumbling just because it's me?"

His fingers stilled on the final button. "Is that what you think?"

Lark bowed her head, the nubbins of her spine pushing through her skin. He wanted, desperately, to press his lips to the one at the top. Lark tilted her face slightly to the side. "You're hardly an innocent."

"I'm so glad you've worked me out." He couldn't stop the hint of anger flavoring his voice. "You always did know me best."

"Just undo my buttons, Charlie. I'll manage the rest."

"Done." He stared down at her parted gown, wanting to put his hands inside it and push it forward off her shoulders, but he was angry at her presumption. And aroused. It was a confusing mix of emotions. He couldn't see a damned inch of her back, thanks to her corset and chemise, but it felt like she was naked.

The slick gleam of light on her skintight trousers made him swallow.

Turning away, he fumbled at his own buttons. The clammy, wet heat of the air clung to his skin and welded his shirt to his chest. His cock surged against the flap of his trousers like some insistent intruder, determined to beat down the door if he didn't open it.

"Coming in?" Lark called, and he heard her corset and trousers hit the ground.

"I'll let you go first," he replied through gritted teeth.