Reckless Viscount Read online

  Dedication

  To my husband, Shannon. For all that you are and all that you do every day. This never would have been possible without you. You will always be my hero.

  Chapter One

  England 1822

  It was not often that Leif Riley managed to catch someone behaving worse than him.

  The young woman standing with her ear pressed to the door of the Earl of Blackbourne’s private study was obviously a lady of quality despite the fact that she was eavesdropping. She was listening so carefully to what was occurring in the adjoining room she had no idea she was no longer alone.

  Bored and prone to indulging his devilish nature, Leif decided not to alert her to his presence just yet. He made no sound as he approached the overstuffed sofa near the fireplace at the end of the room and settled his hip on the curved arm. His measuring gaze moved freely and unabashedly over the slim form of the unknown woman.

  She was terribly petite. The top of her head would probably barely bump at the underside of his chin. Leif might have thought her to be a girl she was so slight. Her back was slim and her shoulders were narrow, but there was definite maturity to the feminine curve of her waist and hip.

  A mass of pale hair was twisted atop her head in a thick chignon that appeared too heavy to be properly supported by her swan-like neck. The fair tresses held a hint of fire banked in their depth, suggesting an inner warmth which contrasted nicely with the cool and creamy tone of her skin and the virginal whiteness of her gown.

  He narrowed his gaze.

  Her clothing and adornment were all of the highest quality. The simple day dress was not nearly as sophisticated as what was currently coming out of Paris, but it was made from the finest materials available. The pale peach-colored sash was likely Indian silk and a master hand had stitched the delicate embroidery that trimmed the sleeves and hemline of the gown. Even the shoes peeking from beneath the scalloped hem were made from fine supple leather.

  It was Leif’s business to notice the details that denoted a woman’s wealth and station. It was automatic, when he first encountered a woman he hadn’t met, to quickly judge her financial worth. It had become a subconscious act performed out of necessity and habit. Truth be told, he hated fashion. But being able to recognize quality in the elements of feminine attire often saved him a grand waste of time in potentially choosing the wrong mark.

  As he cocked his head to study the strange young woman a bit further, he had to admit this was one time in particular he found the act of perusing the details of a lady’s appearance to be highly enjoyable.

  Especially as he began to consider the elements carefully hidden beneath the layers of finery.

  He resisted the urge to shift his position as the unexpected weight of arousal made his breeches uncomfortable. The swift heat of lust in his blood was a surprise, being triggered as it was by so slight a catalyst. Leif was far from being a green lad where the barest thought of a woman’s private anatomy could make the blood thunder in his ears.

  His lips twisted wryly.

  It seemed even his jaded sensibilities could be aroused by the decadent act of voyeurism.

  The poor woman had no idea he was watching her even as he imagined the sensual details of her naked body. Leif suddenly wished with more force than he had felt for anything in an obscene length of time that the stranger would turn around.

  Not one to sit idle and wait for what he wanted, he broke the silence of the room. “Are they saying anything interesting?”

  Even spoken quietly his words had a dramatic effect on the young woman. She gave a sharp, startled gasp and spun around to face him, pressing her back flat against the door she had just had her ear to. Her eyes were wide with alarm and she drew a swift breath that appeared to get caught in her lungs.

  She was not a beauty by any means. At least not in comparison to the stylish ladies currently gracing the drawing rooms of London. Her forehead was a touch too high, but her arching brows, pert little nose and the soft bow of her mouth lent her an other-worldly attractiveness. There was even a constellation of pale freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and the crests of her fine cheekbones.

  No, not a collection of features that would bring her acclaim as a great beauty, but there might be some who managed to see past the oddness of the delicate details to appreciate their uniqueness.

  The eyes, he realized belatedly, were easily the most unusual of her features. A green so pale and bright they seemed to be lit from within. They reminded him of the sea on those rare days when the brightness of the sun washed away the darker blues, leaving behind a crystal purity unmatched by even the most precious gems.

  Uncomfortable with the poetic bend of his thoughts, Leif allowed his gaze to dip below her neckline. Just long enough to note that if he’d had a champagne glass, he could have proven that her breasts had the potential to rival the perfection of Marie Antoinette’s iconic bosom.

  He broadened his smile into a roguish grin and was pleased to see her sea-foam gaze flicker in reaction. Enjoying the stunned look on her interesting face, he decided to see how far he could push the encounter. He gestured toward the door behind her with a sharp nod of his head and repeated his question.

  “Anything interesting?”

  She opened her lovely mouth as if to speak. When no sound came out, she closed it, took a deep breath and tried again. This time when there was no sound, she clamped her lips shut and eyed him warily. A subtle crease found its place between her brows.

  The women of Leif’s acquaintance would not be caught dead displaying such an artless combination of embarrassment and helpless pride.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to call you out for misbehaving. I happen to appreciate bad behavior.” He smiled at her guarded expression. “Especially in fair ladies.”

  “No,” she interjected abruptly. Her cheeks blushed a bright pink, and instead of detracting from her appearance, it made her more endearing. “You do not understand. It’s not…it is not what it looks like.”

  There was a thread of emotional strain in her voice. Strain and the delightful lilt of an Irish brogue that unfurled in a lovely cadence.

  He felt an urge to put her at ease, but he was not the comforting sort.

  He cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “You weren’t listening intently at that door just a moment ago?”

  The woman’s stiff spine slumped just a touch before she straightened again. She waved a slim-fingered hand toward the door at her back with a graceful turn of her elbow.

  “Well, obviously I was listening, but it was with no malicious intent, I swear it.”

  “You were drawn in by irresistible curiosity, then?” he teased.

  The woman licked her lips and her pale-green eyes slid to the side as she tried to find a way to answer him without incriminating herself any further.

  “They must be talking about me again.” He offered with a swaggering grin that usually made women twitter with captivated interest. “You can admit it. I am a fascinating subject. But whatever they are saying, it is only half true. The more scandalous half, they know absolutely nothing about.”

  His charm had no effect on the girl as she pursed her lush lips in growing distress and shook her head. A few strands of strawberry-blonde hair slid from her chignon to caress her pale cheeks.

  “No, not you,” she insisted with a note of distraction. She paused to draw a swift breath and her hands fluttered before she clasped them together and continued in a nervous rush of words. “I do not even know who you are. They are talking about me. About my future. Or rather, whether or not I am to have a chance at a future.”

  The smooth feminine texture of her faint accent slid like soft silk over Leif’s senses. If it were possible to bathe in the
warmth of the rolling and dipping sounds he would have stripped naked then and there.

  “Of course,” she went on, her anxiety seeming to loosen her tongue, “I would not typically listen so rudely to a discussion clearly meant to be private. Such behavior is simply inexcusable. It is just that…the conversation currently taking place in that room is infinitely important. At least to me,” she added slowly as her elfish features folded into a fierce little frown and she tilted her head to eye him critically. “But you don’t really care about any of that, do you?”

  Leif blinked, jolted by her sudden sharp perception. In truth, he had only been half-listening to her run off of words. Why did women always feel such a need to explain everything? The entire time she had been talking, his attention had been ensnared by the movement of her lips, the full bottom one in particular, the delightful nervousness in her fluttering hands and the way that in spite of her obvious innocence and utter lack of social polish, or perhaps because of them, she kept her pale-green eyes fastened to his face.

  Forcing himself to recall what she had said, he saw no reason not to reply honestly.

  “You are right. Your explanations are lost on me. I am in no position to judge another’s behavior. I have done far worse than eavesdropping in my lifetime.” He folded his arms across his chest in a casual posture. “Hell, I’ve done worse already this morning.”

  “Afternoon,” the Irish lass corrected, obviously comfortable with having found her voice.

  Leif grinned and shook his head. It was not the first time he’d been corrected in such a manner. “I have been out of my bed for barely an hour. It’s morning.”

  Her expressive gaze flashed with surprise. “And you have already done worse?”

  Leif laughed at the innocent curiosity in her question. He couldn’t help it. The girl was so refreshingly…fresh.

  “Irish, you have no idea,” he murmured in a sensual drawl. “I’ve committed half a dozen sins in my mind during the last fifteen minutes alone.”

  He kept his voice low in the way women appreciated on a visceral level. Years ago, a female of intimate acquaintance told him she could reach climax by the sound of his whispered words alone. Though he managed to prove her statement true, Leif certainly counted it an exception. Of course, that didn’t stop him from developing an arsenal of vocal variations for use toward other purposes. To relax and sooth, tease or cajole.

  Her mouth dropped open at his bold insinuation, but she did not soften to his tone. Perhaps the trick was lost on innocent ears. Her stunningly clear gaze met his with more self-possession than he expected.

  “You are a rogue,” she stated with solid conviction.

  He smiled at the stony expression that hardened her sweet elfish features. The harshness only accentuated her obvious vulnerability.

  “Among other things,” he replied with a careless shrug.

  His expression was neutral and his movements relaxed as he lengthened his body and stood from where he had been leaning on the arm of the sofa. His approach was slow as he crossed the boundary of propriety, closing the distance between them that a man with even the slightest sense of social decorum would have maintained.

  Her slim posture stiffened as he neared, and though it was subtle, Leif noticed that she pressed her back more securely against the door and the light in her eyes turned wary.

  But she didn’t step away, didn’t retreat. He liked that.

  Caution wasn’t her only reaction, he noted as he came to stand at her side and lean his shoulder against the solid wooden door. The black centers of her eyes had dilated until there was only a narrow ring of the soft crystalline green surrounding them. Her lips were parted and he could hear the whisper of her breath as it slid swiftly past her teeth.

  He drew in the air that drifted in the space between them. Her personal scent soaked his brain and sparked a flash of dark yearning at the back of his skull. The sensation was pleasurable near to the point of discomfort. She smelled like a field of wildflowers after a summer rain. Sweetly delicate, fresh and crisp with a subtle note of tempting earthiness.

  Leif’s lips curled into a bitter smirk at the flight of whimsy. Women did not smell of wildflowers. Expensive French perfume, even more expensive French wine, and almost always eventually sweat and sex.

  But not rain-soaked wildflowers.

  A shadow fell over the bright beauty of the young woman’s eyes. Her teeth closed over her full bottom lip as if she were holding something back, and when she spoke, her voice was cool and masked.

  “Do you find this type of thing amusing?”

  He cocked a brow at her question. “What type of thing?”

  She lowered her fine brows over her expressive gaze and pursed her lips together in a way that should have given her a sour appearance. But Leif looked at the disapproving shape of her full mouth and felt only an intense desire to kiss her. He glanced up from her lips and was stopped by the flash of ire in her gaze.

  She was irritated with him.

  It took him by surprise—her annoyance and the realization that he had caused it. He did not irritate women. He charmed them. Usually quite effortlessly. He was handsome, roguishly wicked and exceptionally well-versed in all forms of seduction, from soft and sweet to dark and licentious. He knew what he was about. He had been playing this game for many years and with women far more experienced than this pure Irish lass.

  Not that he had been trying to seduce her, but if he had been, it should have been easy. Her youth, lack of sophistication, obvious innocence and naiveté. She should have been receptive, warm and practically falling into his arms by now.

  “This—” she indicated pertly with a sweeping gesture of her slim hand, “—being inappropriate, shoving me off balance to see how I react.”

  The young woman was proving to be disturbingly perceptive. Considering the fact that he often used manipulation and distraction when dealing with members of the fair sex, a perceptive female was not something he relished.

  “Is that what I was doing?”

  She gave him a gentle little frown that showed more than words could what she thought of his prevarication. “You must think me a foolish woman if you believe I would not notice the glint of ridicule in your gaze or the derision twisting your lips.”

  Leif laughed then and watched as her frown deepened. Too perceptive by far.

  “Ah, you saw that, did you?” He lowered his chin and tipped his head toward her like a lover and was pleased by her sharp intake of breath. “Well, I assure you, I only ever ridicule myself.”

  “Of course you do,” she replied through tight lips. The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable. She shifted and pushed away from the door at her back. The slight movement stirred the air just enough to send a hint of wildflowers to his flared nostrils. Leif tensed, thinking she might walk away. Instead, she turned to face him squarely. Their postures were now intimately matched though still separated by several inches.

  His blood pulsed at his temples.

  Pale, shining eyes met his with direct and unwavering accusation. “I know what you are.”

  Leif arched a brow. She couldn’t possibly be that perceptive.

  “You do?”

  She nodded.

  “My father warned me about rakes and scoundrels who would try to take advantage, but he needn’t have bothered. I have no intention of allowing my better sense to be swept away by false words and flattering glances. Such things have no substance, no value when it really matters.”

  She spoke with a fervent conviction that revealed her innocence more than anything else could, and Leif couldn’t stop himself from teasing her further. “You have experience with rakes and scoundrels then?”

  Her eyes widened and a lovely blush spread across her cheeks. “Certainly not. And I intend to keep it that way. I have no desire to fall victim to sweetly uttered lies that will leave me ruined and broken hearted.”

  “Well, I am not nearly so thoughtless,” Leif replied with a grin. “I never ma
ke promises I am unable to keep, and I’ve never left a lady with a broken heart.”

  He didn’t feel it necessary to clarify that the women of his intimate acquaintance had hearts far too sophisticated to break.

  The young lady sighed. It was a heavy sound that echoed from a place far deeper than he imagined might exist in one so ingenuous.

  “There you go again,” she muttered, “thinking me a fool.” She tipped her head to the side, peering at him again in that keen way that had him wondering what she saw. “I suspect your charm gets you into far more trouble than it gets you out of. In spite of your declaration that you are otherwise, it is clear you are a very dangerous sort or you never would have approached a woman completely unknown to you and behaved in such an outrageous manner.”

  Leif was at the same time pleased and perturbed by her observation. He grinned and brushed his knuckles along the underside of his jaw as he eyed her thoughtfully. Her gloved hands were linked together at her waist. So tightly the pure white fabric was deeply creased.

  A barricade against him? Or an indication she was holding something back?

  “Outrageous, am I?”

  “Most definitely.” She nodded.

  Leif pushed off from the door and straightened his posture. He fairly loomed over her diminutive stature. The position gave him a pleasant view of her softly curved cleavage and a distinct physical advantage that did not go unnoticed by her. Her eyelashes fluttered against her fair cheeks.

  “Let me ask you this, Irish.” His voice dropped to an intimate murmur. “Though I am denying nothing, if I am as bad as you claim, why have you deigned to converse with me as long as you have?”

  Her striking sea-green eyes flew up to meet his and she drew a swift breath as if to protest his insinuation. Then just as quickly, she snapped her mouth closed and narrowed her gaze as she appeared to reorganize her response.

  Leif experienced a sharp stab of regret that she hadn’t gone through with her initial reaction. He suspected it would have been far more amusing than what was to come.

  “You make an excellent point,” she agreed. “It is most certainly in my best interest to bring this…unusual interview to an end.” She tilted her head and eyed him with a blend of caution and query in her gaze. “I suppose I have no choice but to trust you will not speak of my indiscretion here.”