Page 71 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

She peered around his imposing shoulder. “Guttersnipe?” She had just realized what he’d said. Even fully dressed, his manly proximity disconcerted her processes of logic. “Oh, no, Adrian. Please do not tell me you engaged Harriet’s help in this scheme. Of all the wretched ideas—”

“I wanted to see you. I had no other neutral parties in the house to ask.” He shrugged sheepishly; then he raked his hand through his hair in a gesture that awakened Emma’s deep-seated nurturing instincts. She had wiped her brothers’ bloody noses, bandaged their cuts, and mended their broken toy swords on more occasions than she could recount. It came naturally to her to boost the male ego when it flagged, even though she remained unconvinced that her siblings had learned much from their youthful misdeeds.

She, on the other hand, had gained an invaluable insight into the male psyche. It seemed a man was made of equal parts pride and vulnerability, of unspeakable crudeness and violence at his worst, of valor and self-sacrifice at his best.

She had always insisted her own brothers stand up for themselves, even if she was hiding in the wings to defend them when necessary. She had encouraged them to try to think their way out of dangerous scrapes.

Now, as unbelievable as it was, she found herself pitted against the very men she had trained to be guardians.

Adrian laughed. “It looks as if I will have to find another way of escape.”

“Do you think you could climb that tree outside my window?” she asked anxiously.

“I could climb that tree in my sleep,” he retorted. “However, it won’t do me any good while Drake is sitting on the garden bench beneath it, smoking a cigar.”

“Drake? Are you sure?”

“Not unless you have a gnome in your garden who smokes cigars.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Drake sitting under my window before. What am I supposed to do with you now?”

He pulled on his shirt and trousers, covering his distracting nudity. “I’ll sneak downstairs and if anyone catches me, I suppose I’ll have to claim I had just let myself into the house.”

She shook her head. “It’s rude to have entered without being invited. No one will believe you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “It’s not as rude as what we were doing, trust me. Hand me my boots, sweetheart. Whatever happens to me was well worth it.”

Blushing, she reached under the bed. A moment later she was pulled back between his legs, and they were kissing again, his tongue stroking hers as if they had all the time in the world to indulge their passion.

“I’m going now,” he muttered, releasing her with reluctance. “But I’ll have you know it’s killing me. Expect me back after I’ve put everything right with your family. Oh, Emma, how I need to be with you. We need each other.”

She glanced toward the window. “Perhaps Drake has left the garden. Shall I check?”

“I’ll check outside your door,” he said, sighing again as they disengaged.

They met back in the middle of the room fifteen seconds later.

“He’s still there!” she exclaimed.

Adrian frowned. “Hamm is lying across the landing of the staircase in a rather strategical position. By the look of him he’s encamped for the night.”

“It’s a trap.” She backed up against the wall. “Adrian, we have been caught in a Boscastle trap.”

He looked around appraisingly. “I don’t suppose there are any secret doors or hiding-holes at my disposal?”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Your brothers did a bit of sneaking around in their day, didn’t they?”

She scowled up at him. “That regrettable truth is not in dispute.”

He stared past her. “Where does this door lead?” he asked, motioning to her dressing closet.

“That is where my maid sleeps, and do not walk in there unannounced. She’s forty-two years old and has never entertained a man in her room.”

He knelt and peered through the brass keyhole. “Well, there are two men in there now. No sign of the maid, though.”

“What?” Disbelieving, she bent her head to look for herself. “Heaven help us. It’s Grayson and Weed.”