Page 20 of Mr. Notorious and the Nefarious November

The reminder of the cold water and his freshly shorn head to rid it of the lice was enough to cool his ardor. He opened his eyes again, keeping them above the woman’s head, and bowed. “Excuse me, madam.”

And he walked out of the library and back into the small adjoining parlor. Not yet trusting himself, he continued walking right back into the drawing room. He looked right and then left, searching for Beatrice. He had a few words to say to her. Morethan that he wanted to grab her hand, drag her out of there, and kiss her senseless. He was on fire now. He needed that release.

“Uncle Munro, are you ill?” Lavinia approached him, her brow wrinkled in concern.

“I—” He cleared his throat, which was dry and tight. “I’m fine.”

“You look a bit flushed. Aunt Beatrice said she felt overheated and left a few moments ago. I do hope her illness isn’t catching.”

That little coward. She hadn’t even stayed to see the results of her machinations. If she’d truly just left, he might still be able to catch her.

“I just need some fresh air,” he told Lavinia, running for the drawing room doors. “I’m fine,” he called over his shoulder as he burst through the doors and ran down the steps.

Ramsbury’s butler had just closed the front door and turned sharply as Munro skidded across the parquet floor of the foyer. “Where is she?” he gasped.

“Mrs. Barnet?”

“Yes! Where is she?”

“I just put her in her coach, sir. Might I—”

Munro pushed past him and flung the door open just as the coach was turning out of the drive and onto the main thoroughfare in front of the town house. “Oh, no you don’t,” he muttered and began to run. He caught up with the coach a moment later, and still running, banged on the window. Beatrice opened the curtains and blinked at him. A moment later, the coach slowed, and she lowered the window.

“What are you doing?”

“Open the door,” he said, jerking his head at the coach.

“But—”

“Open it, Beatrice.”

She raised the window, and Munro half-feared she’d knock on the roof and the coach would start away again. He could keep chasing it, but he was panting and wasn’t sure how long he might keep that up. But the door to the coach opened, and he caught it, climbed in, and slammed it again. Then he reached up and banged on the roof.

The coach lurched and moved away.

Across from him, in the golden light of the lanterns, Beatrice blinked at him. “I suppose this means you weren’t tempted.”

“Oh, I was tempted, but not so tempted that I forgot one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I only want you.”

He saw her throat work as she swallowed, quite obviously more affected by his words than she let on. “You can’t have me. You should have taken advantage of what was offered to slake your lust.”

“I think you’re forgetting something,” he said, tone ominous. He’d just remembered it himself.

“What’s that?”

“I win a prize.”

Chapter Six

Beatrice hadn’t forgotten his reward if he resisted this temptation. In fact, she’d prayed he would resist because she wanted him more now than she ever had. All through dinner she’d felt his gaze on her. When she glanced at him, and their eyes met, her belly went liquid, and her heart sped up. The duke’s dining room had been cavernous and drafty, but she’d felt too warm. At one point, a bead of perspiration had trickled down her spine, teasing her as she imagined it was Munro’s finger.

“A quarter hour,” she whispered, looking at him now.

“That’s right. A quarter hour to do whatever I like with you.”

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