Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath Page A

headed for the door.
    â€œThen you’re welcome to warm my bed.”
    Even as Jack threw out the challenge, he wasn’t certain what had possessed him to offer that alternative, although it certainly had appeal. If she brought half as much fire to his bed as she brought to her words, he thought they might have an incredible and unforgettable night.
    Very slowly, she turned around. “You can’t be serious.”
    â€œI’m not a man with a charitable bent. Today, you have a roof over your head, clothes on your person, and food in your belly. The roof and the food are mine, the clothes are still questionable as I’ve yet to locate them in my ledger. You’re taking from me, Duchess, without giving anything in return. To let it continue is a poor business practice. If you wish to remain in residence, you must earn your keep.”
    â€œEarn my keep? As though I’m a servant or, worse, your whore?” She felt the fury shimmering through her. “You are a bastard.”
    â€œAccording to the law, yes.”
    â€œHow can you be so callous? I’ve just lost my husband, my home, and, for all legal purposes, my son. Have you no kindness in you at all?”
    â€œThere is no profit to be made in kindness.”
    â€œIs that all you care about? Your gains?”
    Jack cursed harshly beneath his breath. Why was she making this so damned difficult?
    She’d angled her head accusingly as though she could intimidate him into changing his stance. Her hair was a rich brown with just enough red in it to make it interesting. He wondered what she’d look like dressed in red. Black made her appear too pale. But red, or purple, a deep purple—like royalty…
    He shook his head. He never envisioned women in clothes—imagined them out of them but not in them. What was wrong with him?
    The door clicked open to reveal the butler. Because the library was large, with several sitting areas arranged between the door and the desk, it took a few seconds for Brittles to cross the expanse, his footsteps eerily silent. It made Jack suspicious, the way the servants moved around so quietly. It wasn’t natural unless a person intended to rob someone.
    Brittles stood at attention until Jack looked at him, then he bowed slightly. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but an Inspector Swindler from Scotland Yard wishes to speak with you. Are you home?”
    â€œOf course, I’m home, man. I’m sitting right here.”
    Before Brittles could respond, the duchess cleared her throat and stepped into the fray. “Saying you’re not at home is a polite way to inform someone you don’t wish to see him.”
    â€œDidn’t think they lied in your polite world.”
    â€œThey’re not rude in my world.”
    Jack wanted to argue further, but he didn’t want to keep Swindler waiting. He’d take the matter up with the duchess later. He suspected they were going to spend a good deal of their time arguing about what each of them considered proper. He gave his attention back to the butler. “Of course, I’ll see him.”
    As soon as the butler had left the room, the duchess advanced. “What have you done?”
    â€œI chose not to lie and tell him I wasn’t home. I thought you’d applaud my honesty.”
    â€œNo, I mean, why is an inspector from Scotland Yard here? Did you rob someone? Kill someone?” She took another step nearer. “What have you done that would require Scotland Yard to come to this household? If you’re arrested—”
    Before she could finish delivering what Jack wascertain was going to be a dire threat that involved her running off to tell Beckwith, the door was once again opened. This time James Swindler strode into the room. It had always irritated Jack that Swindler had the uncanny knack to give the impression he belonged, regardless of the surroundings. He’d probably look comfortable