Page 22 of A Remarkable Rogue

But more than just physical attraction drew her. She’d never known a more heroic man, more selfless, and so full of determination and dedication. He exuded a natural ease that captivated her, and although she wasn’t willing to let herself contemplate it, she also sensed a deep grief inside him. The same depth of grief she carried inside herself.

She chewed her bottom lip. She was a widow, free to spend her time with whomever she wanted as long as she was discreet. Would it be so wrong to seek solace in his arms?

Nate could give her that, she knew. Just as she held no delusions that whatever happened between them could never be anything more than temporary. She would never give any man a position of power over her. Her late husband had controlled her life and Michael her heart. One man had loved her and one had hated her, yet they’d both taught her well—to never again surrender to a man.

The next time, she might not survive it.

The brush stilled against the horse’s side. Slowly, Nate lifted his head, and his hazel eyes locked with hers long enough for her heart to stop with a painful thud. Then he lowered his gaze to deliberately take her in.

She stood perfectly still beneath his scrutiny and shamelessly let him look.

If he was surprised to see her standing in the stables wearing boys’ clothes, complete with a cap large enough to hide her hair, the emotion never registered on his face. He did nothing, in fact, but toss the brush into the corner and turn back to the horse to finish wiping the cloth across its black satiny coat.

Yet Sydney sensed a change in him…a tensing of his muscles, a quickening of his breath. She trembled.

“You’re a long way from Barton’s tonight, Baroness,” he said quietly and discarded the cloth after the brush.

“I’m a bit underdressed for the club, don’t you think?”

His lips twitched, but he made no comment as he reached for the water bucket at his feet. The rippling muscles in his arms and shoulders captured her attention as he lifted the bucket into the air and poured it over his head. The cold water splashed down his tall body and washed away the bits of hay clinging to his bare skin.

He dropped the bucket to the floor, then slicked back his wet hair with both hands. Droplets of water clung to his chest and ran in rivulets over the hard ridges of his abdomen and down to the waistband of his breeches. She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.Goodness.

“Did anyone see you come in?” He stepped slowly toward her.

She swallowed. Hard. “No.”

“Good. Because no one who sees you will believe for one moment that you’re not a woman.” He looked over her shoulder into the aisle behind her to make certain no one else was there, then slanted a narrowed look at her. “Where did you get those clothes?”

She reached up to make certain the tweed cap was still in place and hiding her hair. “From my stable boy.” She’d had to disguise herself to escape her own home without being followed and slip into the Horse Guards without being noticed. “Why? What’s wrong with them?”

He trailed his gaze over her again and gave a faint shake of his head. “Next time, steal from the groom. A pair of trousers that don’t cling to your hips like that.” His gaze heated everywhere he looked. “A greatcoat to hide the fullness of your bosom.” He leaned over slightly to level his eyes with hers. “And rough up those pretty cheeks of yours with some dirt. You want to pretend you’re a boy? Boys aren’t clean.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She flashed him a mockingly bright smile. “Tomorrow, I’ll instructyouon how to wear a dress.”

He chuckled. Even from a foot away, the low rumble of it cascaded through her and curled her toes in the ill-fitting boots. The mocking humor drained out of her, replaced by something hot and aching.

“Why are you here?” He folded his arms across his chest, and a pang of disappointment pierced her that he’d covered himself from her eyes. “I thought you only haunted the hallways of St James House with your spying.”

A blush flamed from the back of her neck in her embarrassment at being caught. Or perhaps it was because he stood so close now that she could caress his bare chest by simply lifting her hand.

She tucked both hands behind her back to keep from reaching for him. “I need to speak with you, and you live here in the barracks.”

“Surprised by that?”

“Not at all. You have the soul of a soldier. I have the feeling that if a new war began tomorrow and Wellington called for fighters, you’d be the first to volunteer.” It was her turn to study him now, and she eyed him closely. “Is that why you’re coming after me? Something to fill your time until the next war begins, when you can lose yourself once more on the battlefield?”

He leaned in closer, and the two of them now stood nearly nose to nose. “I’m coming after you, Baroness, because I’ve pledged to stop Scepter.”

“Then you’re looking in the wrong place.” She warned somberly, “And if you don’t stop looking, you’ll get us all killed.”

She reached up to unfasten the top two buttons of her boys’ waistcoat. His eyes followed, watching her chest as a haunted expression darkened his face.

Her fingers trembled beneath the heat of his stare. If he were any other man, she would have said he wanted her. But not him. She doubted that an uncontrolled bone existed anywhere in his highly regimented body that would have broken under a desire to reach for her, no matter how much she wanted him to do just that.

She withdrew the decapitated toy soldier she’d tucked into her short stays.

He frowned at the mutilated toy. “What’s that?”