Rogue's Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page A

doors forming most of the front wall offered an unobstructed view of the river. Everything reflected the same measure of care as the kitchen.
    Heath led her down the familiar corridor at the back of the dining room. Six guest rooms with full baths opened from each side. At the end, behind a closed door, was her grandparents’ private suite.
    Allison paused and stared at it until she realized Heath had opened the door of the first guest room and was waiting for her to precede him inside.
    “I was thinking…”
    “About Jack,” he said, putting her suitcase down at the foot of the bed.
    “And Gram,” she replied gazing around the room. Little had changed. Like all the guest rooms she remembered, it exuded warmth and cozy comfort. The old-fashioned bedroom suite, with its wide dresser and mirror, quilt-covered sleigh bed, and maple rocking chair, made it homey and welcoming. She ran her hand over the rolled wood of the bed’s footboard, a faint smile on her lips. “Gram loved this house, every inch of it.”
    “What about you?” Heath watched her from the doorway.
    “I never stayed long enough to form an attachment.” She snapped back the lie. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get out of these wet clothes.”
    “You’ll find a guest robe in the bath, miss.” He swept her a mocking bow and backed out, closing the door with catlike quiet behind him.
    Damn him. Trying to make me uncomfortable. Allison strode into the bathroom, unbuttoning her suit jacket with a violence that all but ripped the hand-covered buttons from its front. Sarcastic bastard! That truce is straining at the bit already .
    Fifteen minutes later, she padded barefoot into the bedroom. Swathed in one of the Lodge’s white terry robes, her freshly shampooed hair blown dry, she felt much better, much more ready to cope with the barbarian whom her grandfather had made his foreman.
    “Slippers, I need slippers.” She rummaged though the suitcase he’d thrown onto the bed. Only when she’d found a pair and was bending to put them on did she notice that the black suit she’d worn earlier, that she’d left draped over a chair, was gone.
    Mrs. Oakes. That’s it. She came into my room and took my suit out to dry . I hope she’s not a meddler who sticks her nose into my business. I don’t need that kind of nuisance. Her son is bad enough. Wonder where she was when we arrived, why she didn’t come out to meet us? And why wasn’t she at the funeral? After all Gramps did for her and her despicable child, it was the least she could have done. Until that moment she’d been too involved with other thoughts to wonder about the housekeeper.
    As she passed through the dining room and glanced outside toward the river, she noticed fog still lay wrapped over the landscape. Although the Lodge was warm and she could hear the crackle of a wood fire from the living room hearth, she shivered. Thank goodness Mrs. Oakes was on the premises. Being alone under such eerie conditions with the last man to see her grandfather alive would not be a heartening prospect. She pushed her way through the swinging door into the kitchen. Heath stood at the stove. He was stirring the contents of a pot.
    “Where’s your mother?”
    “Took you long enough to ask.” He kept his attention on his task.
    “It’s been an unusual day. I had other things on my mind. I assumed she was here at the Lodge taking care of things while you helped bury Gramps. So where is she?”
    “England.” Concentrating on what he was cooking, he didn’t turn to face her.
    “England! Good lord, what is she doing in England?” Drop a bombshell or what!
    “My grandmother was a war bride. My mother always wanted to trace her roots over there. The trip was a gift from Jack…just before he died.”
    “You mean we’re alone here? No guests, no housekeeper?” Can this day get any more insane?
    “That’s right.” He lifted a steaming spoonful from the pot and held it up to cool.
    “This