Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

Clayton nodded. “They probably dislike cleaning up all the maggots and decaying flesh he leaves behind.”


Olivia and Kate both stared at him, their mouths parted in matching O’s. Olivia was the first to recover, clapping her hand over her

mouth to hide her laughter. But her laughter slowly darkened to something far more serious.

“How much more dangerous did I make things this morning?”

Clayton didn’t pretend to misunderstand or brush it off. He checked to ensure the door was shut and the servant was outside it.

“Even if he doesn’t know his brother was at Arshun’s that day, he cannot chance you knowing. The scandal would ruin him if it’s

revealed his brother is a revolutionary.”

“In other words, much more dangerous.”

Clayton didn’t contradict her.

“What do we do?” Olivia asked.

“Continue to be cautious. I don’t think Golov will risk acting against us yet. We’re still his best option for breaking the code. In fact,

there is the chance the revolutionaries may think so, too. That will give us at least some safety until the fete. “And I do not hate you.”

“I—” She stopped. That hadn’t been what she expected him to say at all. “You don’t?”

“I did kiss you yesterday.”

Kate coughed and glanced at Olivia with a lifted eyebrow.

Olivia spoke quickly, her voice a touch too loud. “Who made those delicious pancakes?”

Kate frowned. “The blini? It was that hulking brute Clayton tossed into my kitchen. My cook has become quite taken with her new

assistant.”

“What hulking brute?” Olivia asked him.

“Blin.”

Olivia jumped to her feet. “Blin! Blin is here?” She glanced quickly at Kate. “And you said he was helping the cook, not locked up,

right?”

“I don’t think I have enough rope to tie him, but yes. Clayton asked if I would accept him as a servant for a few days.”

The door thudded open as Olivia bolted from the room.

Clayton moved into the corridor at a more sedate pace. By the time he reached the kitchen, Olivia had her arms as far as she could

around the other man, a single glistening line curved down her cheeks. She praised him, laughing through her tears, about the

pancakes.

The other kitchen servants had gathered around, some smiling, some confused. The cook watched from over by the oven, her flour

-covered hands clasped to her breasts.

Blin’s face was so red, it was almost purple. He patted her on the back with a couple of quick pats. “With a name like Blin, my

babushka said it was better to earn the name than give people a reason to mock it.”

Olivia finally let go of him and stepped back.

She was bloody glowing.

“How did you come to be here?”

Blin scuffed his toe. “I didn’t leave like you asked. I stayed to protect you. I was watching when—the baron?” His eyes found Clayton

in the doorway, and Clayton nodded. “When the baron found me in the snow, and found a place for me in the princess’s house. Even

one in the kitchen when I told him I was good at cooking.”

Olivia slowly turned to face Clayton, her face suddenly serious. She studied him for one heartbeat. Then two.

Clayton shrugged.

She faced Blin again, her smile returning. “Why didn’t you go home?”

Blin’s hand flopped at his sides. He lowered his voice so she had to strain to hear him. “I can’t.”

Clayton interrupted before Olivia could unwittingly cause trouble for Blin. “We should let Blin return to his cooking.”

Olivia seemed to notice the other curious servants for the first time. “Oh, I am so sorry to interrupt.” With one final smile, she walked

toward Clayton.

Once they were in the corridor she grabbed his arm, stopping them. “Why can’t he go home?”

“He’s a serf who left his master without permission. If he’s discovered, the punishment is harsh. For both him and his family.”

Olivia took a small step back, her hand tightening on him. “And he risked it to come after me.” Her voice quavered. “He said you

found him in the snow?”

He gave her an abbreviated account of the encounter outside. Apparently, not abbreviated enough, because her grip loosened to

caress down his arm. “Thank you.”

Clayton licked his suddenly dry lips. What he’d done was hardly deserving of praise. “I put him to work in the kitchens.” He tugged

her forward until they were walking again. “I pulled a knife on him, too. Did he tell you that part?”

“Then you decided to be kind.”

“He watched over you. If I had access to it, I’d give him my entire damned fortune.”

Her hand trembled on his arm, her fingers fluttering, then digging into him.

Hell, but he’d said way too much with that line. And every word of it was the truth. His head spun as if he’d been on a ship in a squall.

And for a moment, he feared his knees might actually be shaking.

What had he just confessed?

He hurried them both inside her room, not even caring that the servants might see.

He knew he was panting as he shut the door, far more loudly than their simple walk would warrant.

Her hand rested on his cheek then she leaned in until her lips brushed his. “Why did you decide to trust him?”

“Because you did.” He trapped her waist and crushed her to him. He could no longer remember why he didn’t think this was a good

idea. This was the best idea he’d ever had. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangled with hers.

His heartbeat echoed in his ear in perfect unison with her panting breaths.

He kissed his way across the neckline of her pink gown; the thing was far too high for his tastes, but it did lead him to an intriguing

tendon stretched tight along the side of her neck. He caressed it with a flick of his tongue, and she shuddered.

So he repeated the caress.

He was alive. Every nerve vibrated. Each breath felt like his first. And it wasn’t just sexual, although he was stiffer than a ten-pound

cannon. He wanted to throw the window open and laugh at the moon. He wanted to spin Olivia in his arms until neither of them could

see straight.

A loud, braying laugh sounded below.

The sound brought with it a touch of sanity. Clayton stepped back, shaking his head although that did little to clear it. “That is

Smirken.” He retreated until he couldn’t touch her again.

She stepped toward him. “Can we claim to not be at home?”

Clayton knew he should step back again but he held his ground, sucking in a deep breath when her hand rested on his chest. “You

will hate me if I allow this to proceed.”

“Why?”

“Because it would go no further than this. Or rather that bed over there.”

“What if that’s enough?”

“It shouldn’t be enough for you.”

She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth.

His breathing stopped.

Slowly, she kissed him again.

His lids lowered until all he could see was the blur of colors around them. “You play with fire.”

“Good.”