She rose, frowning, which forced St. John to rise as well. Her floral skirts settled around her legs, and she turned to face the rest of the room, lost in thought. Appearances could be deceiving. This room and the criminal who owned it were prime examples. Decorated in shades of red, cream, and gold, the study could belong to a peer of the realm, as could the manse it was a part of. There was nothing here to betray its primary purpose-that of being the headquarters of a large and highly illegal smuggling ring.

“What would he want with me?” she asked, remembering the previous night’s events in crystal clarity. She could still smell the exotic scent of his skin and hear the slight accent to his words that made her insides quiver. Her lips tingled from the press of his, as did her breasts with the memory of the hardness of his abdomen.

“Anything from a simple warning to me, to something more sinister.”

“Such as?” She faced him and found him watching her with knowing eyes.

“Such as seducing you and ruining you for Ware. Or seducing you and luring you away to use as leverage against me.”

The word “seducing” used in conjunction with the mysterious, masked Montoya did odd things to her. It should, perhaps, frighten her, but it didn’t.

“You know as well as I how fortuitous it is that you met Ware while in your father’s captivity and that he is willing to disregard your scandalous past and familial connections.” His fingers drummed almost silently upon the desktop. “Your son will be a marquess and your children will have every advantage. Anything that jeopardizes your future is cause for concern.”

Amelia nodded and looked away again, hoping to hide how the reduction of her relationship with Ware to the material benefits made her feel. She was well aware that she stood to gain the most from their union. As Ware’s friend, she wanted only the best for him. Marriage to her was anything but. “What do you want me to do?”