Page 15 of No One's Bride
“Did ye say ye were passing and saw the thief enter?” she said for the footman’s sake. Heaven forbid John thought she was entertaining the lord upstairs while the servants were abed.
“I fear he may have been trying to steal More’s book.”
The footman stood in his nightshirt and breeches, his gaze moving from Ailsa’s nightgown to the strapping figure radiating a potent masculinity.
“My lord, we should decide whether to call a constable.” They would not call a soul. The fewer people who knew they were alone together in the house, the better. “And ye look in need of a brandy.” She faced the footman, ignoring the flash of intrigue in his eyes. “Keep a watchful eye on Monroe. I shall ring if we’re to expect visitors.”
The man bowed and returned to the butler’s room.
“We shall talk upstairs,” Ailsa whispered, giving a series of hand gestures to inform Lord Denton the walls in the basement had ears.
When a woman spent a few months of the year roaming freely over the wild Highland hills, wading barefoot through babbling brooks, she often forgot social etiquettes.
Ailsa climbed the dimly lit stairs first—as any gentleman would insist—but not while wearing nothing but a nightgown.
The lord’s sharp intake of breath brought a hot flush to her cheeks. She could almost feel his searing gaze roaming over her back, dipping to linger in forbidden places. Reaching the top stair was as painstaking as climbing Creag Mhor's summit.
Ailsa closed the servants’ door and returned to the hall. “Help yerself to brandy, my lord, while I hurry upstairs and dress.” Forced to face the indomitable peer, she gestured to the drawing room. “There’s port if ye prefer. Then ye might explain how ye came to be in the area.”
She should thank him, escort him out and bar the door, but thoughts of the intruder returning had her shivering to her toes.
“I lied. I wasn’t passing the house.” He winced like she had torn the confession from his lips. “I asked Jenkins to park across the street because I sensed something was amiss.”
He had come to spy?
She was surprised he’d given her a second thought.
“Ye mean ye had a premonition?”
“I had a bad feeling, not a supernatural experience,” he scoffed.
“That something terrible would occur?”
“No, that there might be a problem after the auction.” He dragged his hand through his hair and huffed. “I don’t know. Perhaps the mysterious benefactor couldn’t bid on the book and used you to obtain the copy. Who else would steal into your home mere hours after you received a rare antiquity?”
He had a point.
It could not be a coincidence.
“The man from Chadwick’s brought the book an hour ago. He came in a hackney and was in a hurry to leave.”
Lord Denton muttered a curse. “Then whoever broke into the house must have been waiting until you took delivery.”
Her pulse raced. That meant the fellow would return.
She wasn’t safe at home.
Not as long as she owned that book.
But she couldn’t just give it away. What if her father had bought it as a gift? She should write to him and ask but it would take weeks to receive a reply.
“There were thirty men at the auction,” the lord continued, the usual hot undercurrent of anger marring his tone. “It will be impossible to find the culprit.”
“Aye, but only a handful made a bid.”
“The villain might have sat waiting to see who won.”
She laughed when she should be terrified. “Ye’re right, though I never thought I’d see the day we’d agree on something.”
