Page 34 of No One's Bride
Her eyes widened. “Perhaps it worked. We’ve nae argued like this for days.” With a quick glance at the box, she whispered, “Tell me it was a terrible kiss.”
Sebastian swallowed past the truth. It had been the most memorable kiss of his life. “It was so dreadful, I couldn’t bear the thought of doing it again.”
“Aye,” she said, lifting her chin as if about to take to the stage to recite a rousing monologue. “Yer coldness chilled me to the bone.”
Her acting skills were poor at best.
The woman had moaned in his mouth on three occasions.
Murden returned, though he said nothing about the paper strewn over the floor. “Forgive the delay. Woodbury has just come back from a delivery.” The auctioneer ushered the tubby fellow into his office. “You’re at liberty to question him for as long as you need.”
Woodbury dragged his cap off his head and held it between his meaty paws. “How can I help you, milord?”
“You can begin by—”
“Mr Murden, how many men work here delivering goods?” Miss MacTavish interjected, a nervous hitch in her voice. “Do ye have other employees? Men other than Mr Woodbury?”
Sebastian turned to her. “Why do you ask?”
The lady swallowed deeply, a shadow of alarm passing over her features. “Because that’s nae the man who delivered the casket.”
ChapterSeven
Ailsa stared at Lord Denton, making every effort not to look at his mouth and imagine it moving expertly over hers. Kissing him had been a mistake. Her motive for doing so seemed ridiculous now. An otherworldly force had planted the seed in her mind, daring her to indulge in a wicked fantasy that might break the spell.
“Are you certain Woodbury didn’t bring the casket?” the lord said, gently cupping her elbow as if compelled to finish what they’d started. “It was dark, and a fog had settled. It may have been difficult to identify him.”
She shivered against his touch and fought to concentrate on the simple question. “Aye. The person who gave me the casket had whiskers and lank brown hair. The scar on his knuckles said he’d recently cut his left hand.”
Had he cut it while subduing the assistant, while scoring a druid symbol into his forehead?
Mr Murden frowned. “Woodbury was the only one working yesterday. And the document says he delivered your parcel at three in the afternoon. You signed it, madam.”
The auctioneer produced the docket.
Lord Denton snatched the paper and scanned it through narrowed eyes before showing her that Mr Murden spoke the truth.
“It states you received the package at three.” Lord Denton’s gaze met hers, his blue eyes softening when he would usually mock her for the error.
She studied the evidence. “Dinnae try to shift the blame, sir. The servants will testify that the package arrived at ten o’clock. If ye look closely, the time is written in a lighter ink.”
Lord Denton’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, and he gave her a sly wink of approval. “It seems you have something to confess, Woodbury.” Arrogance infused his tone as he approached the fellow. “And please, do not dare call Miss MacTavish a liar, else I might be forced to make you eat your words.”
Mr Woodbury’s nervous gaze dipped to his feet. He wrung his cap between shaky hands. “I’m not sure what you mean, milord.”
“Then let me speak plainly.” Lord Denton paused for dramatic effect. “Tell the damn truth, else I’ll have you arrested for conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. Who delivered the casket to Miss MacTavish?”
His angry outburst brought some relief. This was the man Ailsa knew, not the one who fired her blood with his wandering hands and rampant kisses.
“Ye had better have an alibi,” she added. “Else we might think ye paid someone to run an errand so ye had time to commit murder.”
“I swear, miss, I had nothing to do with what happened to poor Mr Hibbet.” The man struggled to hold her gaze. “I’ve been a fool, that’s all. Tricked into handing over the box.”
“Tricked?” A sudden anger lit Mr Murden’s tired eyes. “Tricked by whom? From the smell of ale on your breath, am I to assume it’s someone at the Old Crown tavern?”
Mr Woodbury winced. “Sir, the devil knew what he was doing. He plied me with drink and arranged for me to spend the afternoon with the buxom serving wench. Said he’d take care of my deliveries.”
“You gave a stranger our clients’ possessions?” Mr Murden rubbed his forehead to ease the mounting tension. “As if I haven’t enough to deal with at present. Now I shall have to contact all those who won auctions yesterday and ensure they received the right books.”
