Page 108 of The Moonstone Pirate
“Drat,” she muttered, for the place was dark and there were too many nooks where men could sit and not be seen.
She hoisted herself up against the window, pasting her nose to the glass. “Parrot.” She whistled softly. “Show yourself.”
She was about to give up and simply walk in through the kitchen when someone suddenly grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth to muffle her screams. She tried to kick her assailant and managed two feeble kicks to his shin before she noticed Parrot watching her, a smile on his face and his tail wagging.
Of course.
Draco.
She relaxed against her captor’s broad chest and breathed in the clean scent of bay spices on his skin.Oh, thank goodness.She held up her book and began to talk into his hand, which was still covering her mouth. “Look at the book,” she tried to tell him as she waved it back and forth.
His heart was pounding against her ear, a strong, rhythmic beat to indicate he was furious. His body was taut, all those hard muscles needlessly tense as he held her against him.
She tried to remove his hand from her mouth, but his blood was still in a boil, and he was not ready to accommodate her yet. He continued to hold her embarrassingly close, all that male heat and seething tension pressing against her skin. “What did you not understand about staying away from Moonstone Landing today?” he asked, his growl deep and sensual.
She waved the book in front of him again. He finally eased his hand off her mouth to allow her to speak. “Just look at these drawings and you will understand the urgency. Do you think I would ever disobey you if it wasn’t a matter of life and death?”
“You disobey me all the time.” But he eased his hold and held her in a delicious embrace instead of a captive grip.
She relaxed against him. Oh, he felt so good.
“I only disobey with the best of intentions.”
He groaned and turned her to face him. “What did you find in that book?”
“Do you mind if we move away from the tavern’s outhouse while we speak? The odor is pungent, to say the least.”
He wasn’t budging.
“Very well, be stubborn about it.” She opened the book to the sketches she had done in May of the riders on Rotten Row. “Most of my time was spent with Ella and my little nephew. But my sister and Caden also needed their privacy, so I did not visit them every day, even though they love me and are always happy to see me.”
“Imogen, get to the point.”
She quickly leafed through the pages until she got to the right one. “Since the weather was unusually pleasant, I set out my supplies near the children’s play area by the Serpentine in Hyde Park. I could easily watch the riders on Rotten Row and the carriages on the lane beside it without being noticed. Look.”
“What am I looking at?”
“A rider on a chestnut Friesian talking to two men in an open carriage. Look closely, Draco. Don’t you recognize them? Could this be Lord Eldridge talking to Healey and Burke?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Blast it, Imogen. I don’t know. I have no idea what Lord Eldridge looks like. Why did you not ask your uncle first?”
She frowned at him. “I would have, but he rode to St. Austell Grange to meet Cain and his estate manager, and will not be back before supper.”
“And your aunt?”
“Well, she was at Moonstone Cottage visiting Chloe.”
“Which is within spitting distance of Westgate Hall. You could have walked over there to ask her.”
“I considered it and immediately rejected the idea because she rarely goes to London now, and—”
“She would have figured out your intention and held on to you so that you could not run to Moonstone Landing to find me.”
She nodded reluctantly. “Can you blame me?”
“Yes, utterly and completely. Any footman could have delivered this book to me.”
“Would you have bothered to look at it before you met McTavish?” She cast him a knowing look. “This was too important a discovery to trust to anyone else.”
