Page 30 of Mr. Notorious and the Nefarious November

And then he strolled out of the library and started up the stairs. The sconces in the corridor flickered, and with the clouds and the rain, it felt more like the middle of the night than late afternoon. With a sigh, he opened the door to his chamber. The room was cold, and he saw the cause immediately—the fire had been banked. The drapes had been pulled closed, and he would have to stumble about in the dark to locate the bell pull and call for a servant to stoke the fire. He moved forward, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he froze.

Someone else was in the room. He’d heard a sound—a creak or a rustle of sheets.

His gaze went to the bed, and he saw her. It was definitely a woman—a naked woman if the glow of the fire didn’t deceive him. She wore a mask typically suited for a masquerade ball and nothing else. She lounged on his pillows, extended a hand, and beckoned him to come to her.

Munro’s feet moved before he could think. He started forward, thinking more with his cock than his head. He had no idea who this woman was, but she was exquisite. Even in the dim light, he could see she had generous breasts, rounded hips, and long legs. He could crawl into bed with her and forget…

Beatrice.

Munro stopped his advance just short of the bed. Even now, even in the heat of this moment, he couldn’t forget her. If he touched this woman, he’d be imagining touching Beatrice. The pain of losing her lanced through him, and he took a step back.

“How did you get into my chamber?” he asked.

She shrugged and beckoned him forward again. But Munro took another step back. “You should go.”

For a moment, he wondered what the devil had gotten into him. He would never have sent a naked, willing woman from his chamber. But he didn’t want her. He wanted Beatrice, and if he couldn’t have her, he wouldn’t pretend someone else was her just to stave off the pain. He’d force himself to feel it this time. It was the only way to ever really move past his loss of her. If hecouldmove past that loss.

The woman rose on her knees and gave him a pout then beckoned him forward again. Munro’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to thud in his chest. A small flicker of hope flared. He’d asked how this woman came to be in his chamber, but he didn’t have to think very hard.

Beatrice had let her in. Beatrice had given him another test.

And that meant she still wanted him. If she was still giving him tests, then she still hoped he might pass them and claim his prizes. And the prize for passing this test was a night with her.

“I said, get out.” Munro pointed to the door. “Where are your clothes? You may dress and then you need to go.”

She sank back on her heels and then climbed off the bed. Munro glanced about for her clothing but couldn’t see the garments in the dim light. When he looked back at the woman, she had reached up to untie her mask. Slowly, she removed it and tossed it aside.

“Beatrice?” Munro gaped as an ember from the fire sparked brightly and illuminated her face.

“Once again, you foiled my plans,” she said, aware her voice was raspy and low. “I really did not think you could resist a willing, naked woman in your bed.”

“I—you—I need to sit down.”

She moved aside. “The bed is right here.”

“You need to put something on. I can’t concentrate with you standing there like that. I’m torn between covering my eyes and reaching for the tinder box so I might light a lamp.”

“Light the lamp if you want. I’m yours for the rest of the night.”

He groped for the bed and sat down hard. “I’m sorry. I thought you said you were mine for the night.”

“That was the agreement, wasn’t it? If you passed the fourth test, you could take me to bed.”

He still didn’t move, so she moved to the low fire and took up the poker, stirring the fire to life. Then she extracted a spill from the holder and lit the stick. Behind her, she heard Munro groan.

“That’s better,” she said as she moved back to the lamp, one hand protecting the flame. “I was cold.”

“Then you could put clothing on.”

She lit the lamp. “You don’t really want me to do that, do you?”

“No. But I don’t trust myself with you walking around like…that.”

“You don’t have to trust yourself. I’m trying to tempt you.” She carried the lamp to the bedside table and set it down, then stood before Munro. “I want you to take me to your bed.”

He stared at her, still uncomprehending. Poor man. All the blood had probably rushed to his…lower regions. His gaze was on her eyes, but she saw the struggle it took for him to keep it there. “You can look down,” she said. “At my body.”

“Is this part of the test?”

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