The Master's Mistress Read Online Free PDF

it was starting to seem much longer than that…
    ‘If I’m nosy, then you’re completely lacking in manners!’ She frowned at his rudeness.
    Rogan gave an uninterested shrug. ‘What else did you expect from a man whose father’s only means of contacting him was through a PO Box!’
    A nerve pulsed in her cheek. ‘I wasn’t meaning to be rude when I made that comment.’
    ‘Weren’t you?’ Rogan asked knowingly.
    Okay, yes, she had been, Elizabeth accepted guiltily. Which was a little unfair of her when she really knew nothing about their family situation. When this man’s father had just died…
    ‘What about you, Elizabeth?’ Rogan Sullivan arched a dark brow in query. ‘What does Dr E. Brown do when she isn’t cataloguing someone’s library?’
    ‘She teaches. History. At a London university,’ she expanded as he seemed to be expecting more.
    ‘Wow.’
    ‘It’s a subject I happen to love.’ She bristled defensively at the obvious lack of enthusiasm in his voice.
    ‘You’re comfortable with things that have already happened rather than those that haven’t?’
    Elizabeth had never thought of it in that particular way before…‘Is there something wrong with that?’ she asked.
    A shrug stretched the black material of his T-shirt tighter across the wide width of his shoulders. ‘Not at all. Except a life with no surprises must be…’
    ‘Comfortable?’ Elizabeth supplied tersely.
    ‘Boring,’ Rogan Sullivan finished with an unrepentant grin, his teeth very white and even against that lightly bronzed skin.
    ‘That happens to be the way I prefer it.’ She stood up abruptly. ‘With your permission, I think I’ll take my coffee with me into the library and get started on some work.’
    Dark brows rose teasingly. ‘With my permission?’ he echoed.
    It had occurred to Elizabeth shortly before she’d fallen asleep the night before that with Brad Sullivan’s death, if she stayed on here as originally planned, she would now effectively be working for Rogan…
    She nodded tersely. ‘Unless you would prefer me to stop working on cataloguing the books?’
    ‘I—’ Rogan’s attention turned to the doorway as he saw Mrs Baines standing there hesitantly.
    ‘I wondered if I could get either of you something hot for breakfast?’ the elderly housekeeper offered huskily, the strain of the last few days evident in the paleness of her cheeks and the slight redness of her eyes.
    ‘Elizabeth?’ Rogan prompted crisply.
    ‘Not for me, thanks.’ She gave the older woman a regretful smile.
    ‘Or me,’ Rogan said. ‘We’ll both be finished in here in a few minutes, if you want to clear away then,’ he assured Mrs Baines lightly, having only vague memories of the sixty-year-old widow who had moved to Sullivan House with a sixteen-year-old son twenty years ago.
    He leant back in his chair to look at Elizabeth with enigmatic dark eyes once they were alone again, arms now folded across that wide, muscled chest. ‘So, have you found any priceless treasures in the library yet?’ he wanted to know.
    ‘One or two, yes.’ She nodded. ‘A first edition of Charles Darwin’s Origin of the Species alone is worth a considerable amount of money.’
    His brows rose. ‘How much money?’
    ‘Probably several hundred thousand pounds. And there are several others: a couple of Dickenses and a Chaucer. They’re also very collectible.’
    ‘I’m really not that interested, Elizabeth,’ Rogan rasped.
    Her cheeks became flushed. ‘Then why bother to ask?’
    He gave a shrug. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
    ‘And is your interest usually this fleeting?’
    A slow smile curved those sculptured lips even as the dark eyes once again openly laughed at her. ‘It depends what that interest happens to be…’
    There was no mistaking the deliberate innuendo inRogan’s tone. Nor Elizabeth’s longing to wipe that smile from his ruggedly handsome face!
    What was it about Rogan Sullivan that brought out