Page 7 of A Virgin for the Duke of Thorns

She shook her head as if to clear her wayward thoughts. This was not the time to be indulging her often-winded train of thought. Not when she had a more important mission to accomplish.

And certainly not while she was in the lair of a beast.

She pressed her lips into a determined line as she crept down the mostly empty hallway, grateful for the thick carpeting underfoot that muffled her footsteps.

She had never had the privilege of exploring Blackthorn Estate prior to this particular excursion, but fortunately, Alice had studied several books on architecture once when she had been fascinated by it. She had learned then that there was a pattern to most houses, even the grandest ones.

She just prayed that Blackthorn Estate did not deviate too far from that particular blueprint.

Or that its fearsome, reclusive owner had not actually hidden the book someplace else. If he did, then all her efforts would be in vain, and she would never be able to get her hands on it…

“Oh! There you are!”

Alice froze when she heard a nasal voice calling out from behind her. Her heart pounding in her chest, she dared not turn around for fear of revealing her face to whoever it was that had caught her sneaking about in the direction of the bedrooms.

However, this particular maid would not be deterred, and when her fingers clamped around Alice’s wrist, her mind veered in sheer panic.

“What are you doing about here at this hour? You should be in the kitchen!” the maid admonished her. “More hands are needed here—hey!”

With every ounce of strength she had left in her, Alice twisted her wrist out of the woman’s grasp and fled down the hallway. She barreled into the first door that she had noticed was slightly ajar, slamming it shut behind her and turning the lock for good measure.

I’ve been caught! Dear God, what do I do now?

She closed her eyes as she leaned back against the door. She took in big gulps of air as she fought to steady her wildly beating heart.

It was over now. Her mission was a failure. She would have to give up any desire of ever finding that book and succumb to her fate?—

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

* * *

Her mind blanked at the sound of a deep voice. The sound of it wrapped around her senses like silken bonds, holding her in its thrall.

It was only then that she realized that she was not alone in this room, after all.

Her eyes darted to her right and saw the man she had seen from afar just yesterday. Only this time, he had dispensed of his cape and shirt. The corded muscles of his arms flexed as he folded them over his bare chest.

Alice flushed and dropped her gaze, landing squarely on the crotch of his breeches, which were smeared once again with something vividly red.

Was it blood? Phoebe cannot possibly be right—there were no such things as cannibals in London. If there were, then she or Scarlett would have heard of it…

“You are not supposed to be here,” he told her darkly.

Alice looked up to find his stormy, blue-gray gaze bearing down on her. His lips were pressed into a grim line, making no attempt to hide his displeasure.

“You have ten seconds to tell me who you are and the purpose of your unwarranted visit before I kick you out of this room,” he threatened her.

Alice bristled at his tone. In spite of the rumors swirling around this estate and its master, he was still just a man. She would not cower before him. Would not give him the satisfaction of it.

Defiantly, she raised her chin and met his gaze. “I am your new maid, Your Grace.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “My new maid, huh? Even I cannot pretend I have not heard such drivel before.”

He stalked towards her, and Alice would have taken a few steps back if her back was not already pressed against the door. She sucked in a deep breath as he continued to approach her, leering at her as a predator might appraise its next meal. He was so close now that she could see the rise and fall of his chest, feel the intense heat radiating from his skin. If she raised her hand, she would be able to touch him…

“Wrong answer, little lamb,” he growled. He picked up the hand she had raised unconsciously and turned it over in his, raising a single dark eyebrow. “These are not the hands of a maid.”

Alice quickly withdrew her hands from his grasp and inwardly cursed herself for her folly. Of course, he would know just from a single look that she had never done manual labor in her entire life. How could she have been so stupid as to give that all away?

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