Acquiring Trouble

combative stance, and she erased any doubt when she flashed him a smile filled with contempt.
    He could almost feel his blood pressure climb for the sky.
    To hell with this, he thought grimly, and started toward her.
    It was sheer pleasure to see that look of contempt change to one of fear. She was a woman with foolish opinions, he thought grimly, but she was not a fool.
    She swung away from him, went quickly to the massive front door, opened it, and stepped out into the night.
    Khan followed her.
    She was heading for a red Honda parked in the gravel driveway. By now, she was damn near running but he was bigger, stronger and faster.
    It was no contest.
    He reached the Honda with seconds to spare.
    "You were right," he said in a low, dangerous voice.
    "Get out of my way!"
    "Don't you want to know what you were right about?"
    She reached in her pocket, took out her keys, started to point them at the car. Khan plucked them from her hand.
    "You said I always get what I want. Then you called me a barbarian."
    She started past him, back toward the house. He grabbed her by the shoulders.
    "Let go of me," she gasped. "Let go, damn you, or I'll—"
    "And what I want right now," he said, "is this."
    Laurel read what he was going to do in his eyes, in the way his muscles tensed, in the way he looked at her mouth.
    Then he lowered his head to hers.
    Terror sent her heart racing.
    "No!"
    He laughed. She pushed against his chest, tried to twist her face away, but it was useless. He thrust one hand into her hair, cupped the back of her head, and it was all over.
    The best she could do was steel herself for his kiss, meant to punish. To subdue. To reinforce what she already knew about men like him, that he didn't give a damn for anyone but himself and the few exalted souls he considered his equals.
    She tensed, waited for his mouth to assault hers.
    Wrong.
    He brushed his lips over hers, did it again, then settled his mouth against hers in a kiss that was gentle and soft.
    He slid his hand down her spine, drew her against him, lifted her into him. And he went on kissing her, kissing her until a breathless little sound escaped her throat, until she felt her lips soften, mold against his, part under his…
    That was when he put her from him.
    She blinked. And found herself staring up into eyes the frigid green of a winter sea.
    "Possessed by a barbarian," he said in a low voice. "What a hell of a fate to suffer."
    She wanted to say something witty or, at least, insulting. She couldn't. Her mind was a blank. All she could do was watch the Prince of Altara stride past her, get behind the wheel of a black Land Rover, and gun the engine to life.
    The Rover sped off, leaving a spray of gravel in its wake.
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    Excerpt from UNDENIABLE ROGUE
    by Annette Blair
     
    The Rogues Club, Book One
     
    Prologue
    Military Encampment
    Night before the Battle of Waterloo
    June 17, 1815
     
    “Stare death down, Rogues, and take an oath to The Club.”
    “The Rogues Club,” said the men.
    Gideon St. Goddard cleared his throat. “Those of us blessed and cursed to survive, and remember, hereby vow to protect the families of those here, now, who go to their just rewards with the dawn.”
    “Aye,” they all repeated.
    Gideon nodded and read from the parchment they had composed together. “Every dead rogue’s widow, mother, sister, brother, ward, will be blessed with a family of rogues who provide for them. Every corporeal need—food, shelter, warmth against the cold, and when due: a spouse, an education or a living.”
    “Aye.” The second response came stronger and held more conviction.
    “Raise your flasks,” Gideon said. “And repeat after me. ‘We the members of The Rogues Club, so do vow.’”
    After the vow, and a drink to seal it, cheers resounded and hands were shaken, so it hardly seemed possible that in a few hours any of them might meet their maker.
    Soon, the men began to talk among themselves, exchanging information about their families, and Hawksworth approached him.
     
    June 18, 1815
    After Bonaparte’s Defeat
     
    My dear Sabrina, if you read this, I have passed, yet the sun shines for me now that you are settled. As I vowed, I found for you a husband. With time running out, I exacted from him what amounts to a deathbed promise to wed and protect