His Scandalous Mistress: The Master's Mistress / Count Toussaint's Pregnant Mistress / Castellano's Mistress of Revenge. Кейт Хьюит
chair that sat in front of the desk. ‘Who could have done such a thing?’ She stared down at the piles of books in disarray around her. ‘And why?’
‘I think at this moment I would be more interested to know when.’ Rogan stepped carefully over the piles of scattered books as he came further into the room.
‘When… ?’ Elizabeth echoed dazedly.
He shrugged. ‘Did this happen last night, after we had gone to bed, and we just didn’t hear it? Or did someone enter the house earlier this morning while we were down at the beach?’
Some of the colour returned to Elizabeth’s cheeks at his reference to ‘earlier this morning’.
‘Is there anything missing? Stupid question,’ he instantly acknowledged as Elizabeth gave him an impatient glance. ‘I was just trying to decide whether we should tell the police it was simple vandalism or theft.’
‘Theft?’ Elizabeth repeated breathlessly, her gaze instantly going to the glass cabinet that stood against the wall near the door.
A glass cabinet that Rogan could see stood completely empty, with both of its doors smashed. ‘Is that where you put all the valuable books? The Darwin and other books you mentioned yesterday?’
Elizabeth gave a pained wince. ‘Yes. I—I thought it best to keep them all together… But I just made it easier for a thief, didn’t I?’ she realised self-disgustedly. ‘I—Do you think we should call the police?’ She frowned as Rogan’s earlier comment finally registered.
He arched dark brows. ‘Don’t you?’
‘I… Yes. Of course.’ She stood up again to run the palms of her hands down her denim-clad thighs. ‘If you’re comfortable with that?’
‘If I’m—Why the hell wouldn’t I be comfortable with it?’ Rogan demanded.
Elizabeth could no longer meet Rogan’s dark and probing gaze. ‘I just thought—’
‘I don’t think I want to know what you thought, Elizabeth!’ he bit out. ‘Did imagining I might be involved in something illegal add to your pleasure this morning?’he continued scornfully. ‘Did it make it more exciting for you?’
Elizabeth felt the colour quickly drain from her cheeks at Rogan’s tone. ‘There’s no need to be insulting—’
‘Oh, I think there is,’ he insisted. ‘What do you imagine it is I do in the States, Elizabeth? Something illegal, obviously. Gun-running, maybe? Or selling drugs?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she snapped uncomfortably.
Elizabeth had no idea what Rogan did or was in America; how could she, when he refused to talk about himself?
He folded his arms in front of that broad, muscular chest. ‘So what else did you come up with after you had eliminated gun-running and drugs?’
She made an agitated movement. ‘Stop this, Rogan.’
‘No, seriously,’ he grated, ‘I’m interested.’
He might be ‘interested’, but Elizabeth was under no illusion as to the fact that Rogan was furiously angry too. With good reason… ?
She moistened dry lips. ‘I imagined—thought that—that maybe you’re a mercenary… ’
Rogan’s eyes glittered as hard as jet. ‘From being a soldier for my country to becoming a hired killer for whoever can pay the most money?’
When he put it like that… ‘Perhaps not.’ Elizabeth grimaced. ‘Maybe if you were willing to talk about yourself more… ?’
‘And spoil all your fun?’ he taunted glacially. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it!’
Elizabeth wasn’t having fun at all! ‘I apologise if I’ve insulted you, Rogan—’
‘I can’t imagine why you would think I might be insulted at being thought a mercenary?’ he said.
She clasped her hands tightly together. ‘I have apologised… ’
‘And that makes it okay, does it?’ he exclaimed.
‘No, it obviously doesn’t make it okay,’ Elizabeth accepted softly. ‘I had no right to make assumptions concerning your—your present profession.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ Rogan agreed. ‘I assure you I have absolutely nothing I need to hide from the police, Elizabeth. Can you claim the same?’
She frowned at the challenge she heard in his voice. ‘What could I possibly have to hide?’
Rogan folded his arms across his chest. ‘You tell me.’
Elizabeth gave a confused shake of her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about… ’
He scowled. ‘How much does a university lecturer earn, Elizabeth? Not nearly enough, I’m sure. And no matter how much it is, I’m sure you could still use a couple of hundred grand extra to put in the bank.’
‘You think that I did this?’ Elizabeth gasped weakly, her hand moving up to her throat. ‘That I came back from our swim and deliberately wrecked the library in an effort to cover up the fact that I’ve stolen the first edition Darwin?’
Rogan’s mouth thinned. ‘It doesn’t sound any less plausible than you thinking I’m a damned mercenary!’
No, it didn’t sound less plausible, Elizabeth acknowledged numbly. Except her salary as a university lecturer wasn’t her only source of income. A university lecturer was what Elizabeth was, what she did, but the money she earned doing it was nothing compared to the legacy her mother had left for her when she had died ten years ago.
But that happened to be Elizabeth’s business and no one else’s!
She straightened. ‘I believe we’ve possibly insulted each other enough for one morning, don’t you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know—’
‘Rogan!’ Elizabeth interrupted. ‘Let’s just call the police now and let them handle this investigation.’
Rogan studied her through narrowed lids, knowing by her suddenly closed expression that she was hiding something. Whether that something had anything to do with the wrecking of the library, he had no idea…
‘Well, that wasn’t too helpful, was it?’ Rogan said frustratedly an hour or so later, as he helped Elizabeth pick up the books and check the titles before putting them into neat piles.
The police had arrived, ascertained there were no signs of forced entry, taken their report, and then left again. All within the space of that one hour.
‘I did tell you that there had been several break-ins in the area recently,’ Elizabeth answered him distractedly, as she checked the titles of yet more books.
‘The police might stand a better chance of catching the thief if they took a little more interest in the scene of the crime!’ Rogan muttered scathingly.
‘We don’t know if there’s been a crime—except for the obvious vandalism—until we check whether or not any of the books are missing,’ Elizabeth reasoned. Much as the police had said a short time ago, which was why she and Rogan were now trying to sort the books into some sort of order.
Which, Elizabeth knew, could take hours. Days. It was one thing to catalogue the books when they were in some sort of order on the shelves, another thing altogether to know whether or not any of them had been stolen when they were piled haphazardly on the floor.
‘Perhaps it won’t take too long to establish whether or not the Darwin is missing,’ she added with a frown.
‘We’re more in need of your services than ever, it seems,’ Rogan drawled as he resumed checking the titles of the books before stacking them.
Elizabeth