A Rogue's Proposal Read Online Free PDF Page B

it.” Dillon paused, then offered, “I think that means someone they have some hold over, because he said, bold as brass, that if I didn’t agree they’d tell the authorities what I’d done, and make sure everyone knew I was the General’s son. Well, I did it. Took the message. And the money. And then I got sick.”
    Demon could almost have felt sorry for him. Almost. The flies in the ointment were the General, and Flick’s sniff of disillusionment that came from behind him.
    After a moment, Dillon wearily straightened. “That’s all of it.” He met Demon’s gaze. “I swear. If you’ll believe me.”
    Demon didn’t answer. Forearms on the table, he steepled his fingers; it was time to take charge. “As I see it, we have two objectives—one, to keep you out of the syndicate’s way until, two, we’ve identified your contact, traced him back to his masters—the syndicate—and unmasked at least one member of said syndicate, and have enough proof for you to take to the magistrate, so that, in turning yourself in as a witless pawn caught up in a greater game, you can plead for leniency.”
    He looked up; Dillon blanched, but met his gaze. A moment passed, and Demon raised his brows.
    Dillon swallowed, and nodded. “Yes, all right.”
    “So we need to identify your contact. Flick said you never saw him clearly.”
    Dillon shook his head. “He was always careful—he’d come up to me as I was leaving the pit in the dark, or come sidling up in the shadows.”
    “What’s his height, his build?”
    “Medium to tall, heavy build.” Dillon’s frown lifted. “One thing recognizable is his voice—it’s oddly rough, like his throat is scratched, and he has a London accent.”
    Demon nodded, considering. Then he refocused. “Flick’s idea is the only reasonable way forward—we’ll have to keep watch about the tracks and stables to see who approaches the race jockeys. I’ll handle that.”
    “I’ll help.”
    The statement came from behind him; Demon glanced around, then rose spontaneously to his feet. Luckily, Flick was coldly glaring at Dillon, which allowed him to get his expression back under control before she glanced at him.
    When she did, he met her gaze impassively, but he remained standing.
    He’d guessed right—her head didn’t top his shoulder. Bright, guinea-gold curls formed an aureole about her face; without muffler or cap, he could see the whole clearly, and it took his breath away. Her figure, neat and trim in blue velvet, met with his instant approval. Sleek and svelte, but with firm curves in all the right places. He could now take an oath that she must have worn tight bands to appear as she had before; the swells of her breasts filled the habit’s tightly fitting bodice in a distinctly feminine way.
    She swept forward with an easy, confident grace, then bent to place her neatly folded stable lad’s outfit on the chest, in the process giving him a reminder of why he’d first seen through her disguise.
    He blinked and drew in a much needed breath.
    She looked like an angel, dressed in blue velvet.
    A still very angry angel. She ignored Dillon and faced Demon. “I’ll keep your stables under surveillance—you can watch the other stables and other places I can’t go.”
    “There’s no need—”
    “The more eyes we have watching, the more likely we’ll be to see him. And I’ll hear things that you, as the owner, won’t.” She met his gaze steadily. “If they recruited Ickley, there’s a good chance they’d like to hobble one of your runners—you’ll have quite a few favorites in the races this season.”
    The Flynn, among others. Demon held her gaze, and saw her chin firm, saw it tilt, saw defiance and sheer stubborn will flash in her eyes.
    “That’s right,” Dillon concurred. “There’s a lot of Newmarket to cover, and Flick’s already been accepted as one of your lads.”
    Demon stared, pointedly, at him; Dillon shrugged. “She’s in no danger—it’s me