Page 66 of The Moonstone Pirate
“The ladies, are they to go with you? If so, I shall order your carriage readied.”
Draco groaned. “You mean they haven’t left yet?”
“Yet? No, my lord. They are in Miss Deandra’s bedchamber.”
“And where is my uncle?”
“In the library, as usual.”
Draco shook his head, certain he was misunderstanding. “All the while?”
“Yes, my lord. He has been in the library since after breakfast.”
Draco sighed. “So they are all here and never left?”
“That’s right, my lord.”
“Thank you, Wescott. No carriage necessary. Nor do I require my horse saddled. I won’t be going anywhere just yet.” He took the stairs two at a time and stormed into Deandra’s bedchamber without bothering to knock.
She shrieked as her door slammed open. “Draco, get out! You are dripping water on my new rug!”
Imogen attempted to hide the spyglass she had in her hand.Hisspyglass, no less. Taken fromhisbedchamber, no doubt.
“Of all the bloody cheek,” he muttered, wondering how long she had been looking about his private quarters. Well, he did not keep sensitive documents strewn atop his desk or anywhere easily discovered. She would have found nothing more than his neatly arranged clothes while burrowing through his bureau drawers and armoire.
Ignoring Deandra’s protestations, he strode across the room to the window seat where they had been crouched while spying on him and McTavish, and placed his hands on Imogen’s shoulders. “Did I not tell you to take Deandra and my uncle to Westgate Hall?”
Imogen tossed him a look of defiance mingled with a good dose of guilt. “Indeed, you did. But your uncle refused to budge. Nor could I leave while my art supplies were tossed hither and yon in your garden and left vulnerable to the elements. Also, it would have taken too long to have the carriage brought around. I used my better judgment and chose to remain here. While you were on the beach, we were up here preparing ourselves for any potential onslaught.”
“Preparing yourselves?”
She dug into her bosom and withdrew a key that had been tucked in her cleavage.
Blessed saints.
“This is the key to your gun cabinet. I know how to shoot. So do Wescott and your footmen. Wescott assured me of this fact when I asked him. I would have handed out your weapons if the need arose. You didn’t expect me to abandon your staff, did you? How could you think I would ever run off and leave them defenseless to a pirate attack?”
She cleared her throat and continued, “You were quite magnificent, by the way. Completely masterful as you held off those knaves.”
“All I did was talk to them,” he said in response to the drivel she was spouting.
He wanted to say more.
In truth, he wanted to throttle her.
But all he could think about was the key that had been cozily nestled between her lovely breasts. Well, he was not thinking about the key but the soft flesh where it had found its home.
“You are still dripping on Deandra’s carpet, by the way,” Imogen chided. “You ought to change out of those wet clothes.”
He held out his hand to take back the key. She set it in his palm.
“And now the spyglass, Imogen.”
She blushed as she set that in his palm, too.
He frowned at her when she cast him a weak smile. “My staff is here to protectyou, not the other way around. What if those rogues had come up here? Do you really think you and a few footmen could have held them off?”
“Yes, we could have. There were only six who came ashore. We would have rushed down to assist you had they lowered more boats into the water.”
