Murdoch looked at Maura. “Maura, gather your things and go to your room.”
She appeared stricken. “Uncle—”
“Maura!” he roared.
Her eyes downcast, the chit scooted from his bed, the sheet trailing behind her like a train. She looked around, searching for her clothes. He snatched her costume up from the chair and shoved it into her hand.
Alec opened the door wide. He spoke not a word while the others filed out.
Once they were gone, his jaw clenched.
He was not a man to cast aside his sense of honor. He was not cavalier when it came to the female sex. He set limits for himself and he adhered to them. Married women were off-limits. Virgins were off-limits. A woman’s virginity was a gift to her husband—to be taken only by her husband.
So what the hell happened? Had he been so drunk he’d broken his own rule?
His gaze slid back to the stain on the sheets and remained there for a long, long time. The proof of the pudding indeed, he thought with a taste of bitter humor. He would never have madelove to a virgin. Indeed, he couldn’t remember making love to the enchanting Lady Maura at all.
But by God, it seemed he had.
He gave a black laugh. Oh, the irony—to have taken a maid—initiated her into the world of lovemaking…
So why the devil couldn’t he remember it?
Downstairs, Maura paused as she stood outside the baron’s study. Murdoch had given her a long glance as they walked back to her room. She’d had no choice but to don her pirate’s costume in an empty room across the hall from the duke’s. The duke had hiked a brow, an unnerving half smile on his lips as she passed. He couldn’t know that he had been drugged. Or could he?
Nothing had gone wrong thus far. Nothing.
Was it too good to be true?
He was a shrewd man. She sensed it keenly, as did Murdoch when they discussed the next step in their plan. Maura shivered a little. No doubt very little escaped the duke’s notice. She could not stop her mind from running riot. She prayed he thought last night a tryst and not a trap. Or perhaps he knew it was a trap and not a tryst.
She must stop this, she told herself. Now. She pressed her fingers against her cheeks. Her fingers were cold, her skin burning hot.
As hot as his body had been.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Murdoch was playing his part to the hilt. When she was a child and had done something naughty, a wordless glower from him had sent her scampering away. And when he scolded her soundly—for, oh, but she’d been a very mischievous child—she ran to her room as fast as she could.
Not that the Duke of Gleneden was intimidated.
She suspected there wasn’t much that would rattle him.
Damn the man. She couldn’t stay out here forever. They were all inside. Waiting.
Raising her chin, striving for regal demeanor, she walked into the library. Her gown was of crimson taffeta, to lend her courage.
She blinked hard, staving off tears, as she thought of all that happened last night. The wanton way she had acted. The way she had encouraged the duke. All that had brought her to this point.
All three men rose when she entered. Behind his desk, the baron executed a small bow. Murdoch extended a hand to Maura, indicating the chair beside him.
As for the duke, well, she’d never seen a man who stood so straight. Everything about him was impeccable. He wore a black coat over a shirt so white even Jen might have laughed and said it blinded her. Gold cuff links glimmered as he straightened his jacket.
This, she realized with a twist of her stomach, was her first true glimpse of Alec McBride, Duke of Gleneden. Haughty and tight-lipped, his manner one of cool disdain.
She stole a look at him. She couldn’t help it—and oh, but she shouldn’t have! For that glimpse of his expression sent a shiver all through her. His regard was scarcely that of delight, as it had been last night.
A part of her trembled inside. Another part of her was fighting mad. Still another warned her to be on guard. His eyes were like chips of pale blue. She felt them like the prick of ice.
And all at once she wished she dared to punch him in the jaw—to see it climb higher yet!
