Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

“It is not that late. Send them to an inn.”


Soon, after a great commotion and dozens of vehicles, the house was empty. Her housekeeper, two footmen, and Blin were the only

ones that remained.

“That will make Golov suspicious,” Kate said.

“Yes, but it will keep us from getting our throats slit tonight. Once Ian secures the house.”

Ian groaned and disappeared.

Kate echoed the groan as she stood. “I refuse to sleep in a room with a bound man a few feet away. I’ll go find another bed.”

Olivia looked around the now-empty room. “So what now?”

The intensity in Clayton’s gaze shifted, centering on her. Devouring her. “Shall we sneak to the pantry and glut ourselves before Ian

has a chance to empty it into his pockets?”

Olivia nodded.

After all, she did have something she needed to discuss.

It was time.





chapter Twenty-eight

Blin was the only one in the kitchen when they entered. His back was to them as he worked on something, but then he swayed on his

feet. Olivia darted to his side. She tucked herself under his arm. He was rather ashen about the lips. He’d lost a good deal of blood

from the cut. “What are you doing down here? You should be resting.”

Clayton moved to his other side.

“Cook will need this started for dinner tomorrow.” Blin’s hands still worked at the dough.

“You need to lie down.”

“This is the only thing I am good at. Not protecting you. I should have been able to stop Golov from taking you. I should have stopped

Nicolai, too.” He punched the dough with a massive fist, rattling the table. “Sorry I didn’t stop them. I am not much better than Nicolai,

am I?”

Olivia swallowed, her throat suddenly thick. “You are far, far better. You are a good man.”

“I kidnapped you.”

“I forgave you while we were still on the boat.”

Blin’s motion slowed. “Do you think the princess will let me stay?”

“Yes.” Olivia would make sure of it. “Now, where do you sleep?”

“On a pallet in the attic.”

The man swayed again. The attics would be too far and too cold. Instead, with Clayton’s help, she got him into one of the empty

guest rooms. They removed the holland cover from the bed.

Blin grunted as he lay down. “Never slept on a mattress before. I’ll have to tell my babushka about this. Don’t know if I will tell her

about kidnapping you, though.”

“Why don’t you tell her about rescuing me instead?”

Blin was softly snoring by the time Clayton had finished lighting the stove, and they crept out. He lit the stoves in two nearby

bedrooms so they would have a warm place to sleep as well.

After he’d finished, Clayton caught her to him. “Enough of this waiting. Let’s get some food and I’ll tell you my plan.”

This time the kitchen was empty when they passed through to the pantry.

Clayton lifted the cheesecloth to reveal half a loaf of bread. Fresh, too. He ripped off a large piece and handed it to Olivia.

She smiled at him, then took a large bite.

Clayton pulled down a jar. “Once in Brussels, Ian came to us ecstatic because he’d found a warehouse full of food.”

She swallowed and brushed the crumbs from her lips. “I notice a lot of your stories center around food.”

“That’s because we never had much. Unfortunately, once we got inside, it became clear that all those glistening cherries, pears, and

pineapples were wax. Decorations for ladies’ bonnets.”

Olivia laughed, the sound echoing up to the gleaming copper pans hanging in the kitchen. She clapped her hand over her mouth,

trying to quiet her mirth.

He didn’t want her to. The servants were upstairs in the attic. There was no one to hear them on this level other than Ian. And Clayton

would be more than pleased if Ian knew where they were so he’d stay away. “Madeline surprised Ian with a fine new hat covered

with fruit the next week. I think he actually wore it twice.”

“Surely, it was a man’s hat.”

“Oh no. Ian makes quite a fine-looking woman. Although finding a dress to fit his shoulders . . .”

That set Olivia laughing so hard she almost dropped the bread she held. Finally, she quieted. “Do you wish she was here with you in

the larder instead? Madeline?”

Clayton froze. Madeline had been his constant companion. One of the only people he’d allowed himself to care about. But would he

rather have her here with him now, debating what food to take upstairs for an impromptu late night repast? “No.”

“What about on this mission?”

He didn’t like the uncertainty in her voice. He needed Olivia to understand that she and Madeline weren’t in competition. He cared

for Madeline.

But he loved Olivia.

“Shall I tell you of my plan for the mill?” He selected a jar from the shelves in front of him and opened it, revealing a sticky dark

substance. He smelled it. “Jam.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “Take.”

He’d known it would appeal to her sweet tooth.

She dipped her finger inside, then licked the jam off. The movement of her tongue was slow and deliberate. “Blackberry. Perfect.”

She hadn’t meant to be provocative, he was certain. Her enjoyment of the jam was too quick and simple. Still his body hardened.

And there was no reason to resist her anymore. He had a solution to the mill. And he was going to marry her.

He caught her hand before she wiped it on her skirts and brought it to his mouth, drawing her finger between his lips. It was still

slightly sticky, slightly sweet. He sucked gently.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her breath hissed between her teeth.

But he slowly released her hand. When he made love to her, he wanted it to be in a room lit with glowing candles. The bed would be

covered with the softest silk and he’d ensure there was no one around for miles, so they could give themselves entirely over to

passion.

Even more than that, he wanted the perfect sunset over the cliffs so he could ask her to marry him.

But for now he’d settle for telling her of his plans for the mill.

And his feelings for her.

He set the jar down, then took the piece of bread out of her hands. “I haven’t treated you well on this mission. I believe the term

coldhearted bastard was rightfully applied.” He exhaled. Hell, he was shaking like a drunk recruit. “But you reminded me that I haven’

t always been thus. You provoked me until I was forced to see you differently. I understand—”

Olivia’s hand clamped over his mouth. It trembled. “No more. Please.”

He twisted his head away so he could speak. She loved him. She’d told him earlier. But perhaps she needed more time to be

willing to say the words again. He needed to woo her with soft words and gifts rather than bombs and stolen jam. “Olivia, I love you.”