Chapter Five
Alec woke the next morning with a hammer pounding dully in his head. Strange, he thought vaguely. Wine—no matter how much—rarely had that effect on him.
And then, good God, he felt soft, immensely pleasurable warmth nestled against his side.
His head still spinning, he opened his eyes.
Soft, silky skeins of black hair tumbled across his bare chest. Shocked, he took a strand between his fingers, following its length up, over the curve of her back. What the devil? Who the devil…
Remembrance swelled over him.
It was her. His lady pirate, who had bewitched him so the night before.
She was rousing. Stirring, snuggling deeper into the warm depths of the bed. She turned on her side, fitting herself against him.
And opened her eyes.
Slender, beautifully arched black brows drew together over her nose. In sheer, utter bewilderment, she beheld him. She stared at him as if…as if…
“You!” she gasped. She scrambled back against the wall, as far away from him as she could get.
Alec sat up and stretched out a hand. It was odd.
His throat was cotton dry, his mind a fog.
He remembered his midnight guest—how could he not?
The previous night returned in jagged pieces that floated in and out of his brain.
His mind groped. It was almost as if he didn’t know what was real and what was not.
He sought to make sense of it. He remembered bringing her to his room, their teasing play. The last thing he recalled was a kiss, a hot, hazy, mesmerizing kiss that promised everything.
Yet now the chit regarded him as if he were an asp.
Something weaved in and out of his consciousness, a warning. A sense that something was wrong. He’d been drinking, yes, but he wouldn’t have considered himself drunk. For pity’s sake, what the bloody hell—
Someone was knocking at the door. He ignored it.
“Come now.” He slanted a smile toward the girl, to soothe her. “There’s no reason to—” He stopped cold. Blast! He didn’t even know her name!
It didn’t help that she remained wide-eyed and full of shocked wariness. She clutched fistfuls of sheet and coverlet and wrenched them all the way to her chin so that only her nose and eyes were revealed.
The knocking continued, sharply insistent.
Alec lost his temper. “Stop knocking and bloody well come back later!”
He turned back to the girl. Before he could say a word, he heard a key inserted into the lock. The door was flung wide. Alec was still considering why someone dared violate his privacy when a distinguished-looking, bearded man surged inside.
Alec leaped from the bed. “Who the hell are you?”
The stranger ignored him. “Maura?” The man’s gaze circled the chamber, at last settling on the chit cowering in his bed. “Maura!”
The girl’s beautiful eyes filled with tears. She scooted even farther back against the wall. “Uncle!” she cried.
The baron was suddenly there as well. He pushed a key into his breast pocket. “Your grace, forgive the intrusion. But please, let us not share this unpleasantness with the other guests.”
Alec shoved his legs into his breeches. He swung around to face the baron, his rank no less impressive for the fact that he was bare-footed and bare-chested. “What the blazes goes on here? Who is this man?”
The baron had rather wisely insinuated himself between Alec and the bearded man. “His Grace, Alec McBride, Duke of Gleneden,” the baron began, but the other man gave Lord Preston no chance to continue.
“I am Murdoch Maxwell,” he said coldly. “You will forgive me if I do not shake your hand. I’m far more interested in knowing why the bloody hell you took my niece to your bedroom last night.
I’ve searched for her all morning, until a servant told me she saw you leading her up the stairs last night. ”
Alec’s head was spinning. Images flashed in his brain. Of his lady pirate’s touch. Running her fingers through her hair. The certainty that she had lain atop him as they kissed. It was as if he could almost feel her slight weight once more, the precise angle of her knee between his.
He’d felt so strange. As if his blood were afire.
Aye, chided a voice in his mind, the fire of desire.
After that…God, but it was as if his mind had been wiped clean.
He raised his head. His jaw clamped together. His gaze slid from the she-pirate in his bed to Murdoch Maxwell. “This woman—”
“Lady Maura,” Murdoch snapped. “Lady Maura O’Donnell, daughter of the late earl of McDonough. Please have the courtesy to use her name.”
“I bloody well didn’t know her name!” Alec ran a hand through his hair.
Lord, but he sounded like a fool! This was unlike any other situation he’d found himself in.
He wasn’t a silly young pup who settled himself between any pair of willing white thighs that parted for him.
He stayed away from trouble—he didn’t make trouble for himself.
“Is this your usual manner of taking women to your bed, your grace?” The bearded man called Murdoch had turned toward the bed. “Did he hurt you, lass? Force you to come with him?”
Alec couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Nor could he believe what he was seeing, for the chit—Lady Maura—had lowered her head, a pose of innocence. Her mouth opened, then closed. “I…” she stammered. “Uncle, truly, I cannot say how I came to be here—”
“The devil you can’t!” Alec exploded. “I assure you, Lady Maura came to my room knowing full well what she was about!”
“Did she now?” Murdoch stepped forward. “I know my niece, your grace.” His voice vibrated with feeling.
“I know very well what she is, and what she is not. I also know full well the intent and desires of men who see a beautiful young woman like my niece—men who take what they want and care nothing about those beneath them. And I daresay the proof is in the pudding, is it not?” With one arm he swept aside the coverlet.
Blood smeared the sheet.
Maura yanked her eyes from it.
Alec was too stunned to speak.
Murdoch balled his hands into fists. He turned furiously on the duke. “I knew it. I knew it! You ravished her. By heaven, you’ve ruined her. I—”
The baron spread his hands wide. “Gentlemen, gentlemen! I beg of you, allow me to bid the remainder of my guests farewell. Let us meet in my study at noon. Then I’m certain this matter can all be sorted out.”
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 made love 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.