Chapter Ten

You’re a weekearly, you bastard.

Draco followed Imogen’s gaze. Yes, it was a pirate ship sailing into his cove, white sails unfurled to catch the hot summer wind. He recognized the vessel as the Drogheda. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, dropping Imogen’s supplies and none too gently shoving her down behind the stone wall that stood between his manicured garden and the meadow.

“Draco! Well, I never!”

He ignored her protest. “Sorry, Butterfly. The fun is over. You need to go back home immediately. Take Deandra and my uncle with you. Now.”

“How am I to do that while your big paw is on my shoulder and pressing me down? Not to mention, Parrot is now licking my face. Ew! Stop that, Parrot. Draco, is that the Irishman’s ship? Ew! Parrot, must you be so…slobbery? Draco, I—”

“Blessed saints, stop asking questions.”

“Get your dog off me.”

He nudged Parrot off Imogen. The dog began to whine.

Imogen immediately returned to asking questions. “It is the Irishman’s ship, isn’t it? Don’t you dare lie to me about something so important. You need to tell me the truth about what is really going on.”

Draco stared down at her, his hand still on her shoulder to keep her hidden from view behind the stone wall. “Yes, it is his ship.”

“What is it doing here?”

“I cannot tell you that.” Nor did he understand why McTavish had shown up a week earlier than planned, and in broad daylight. Not only had he shown up early and while everyone could see him, but he’d come here instead of meeting Draco at the Three Lions tavern as arranged.

Fortunately, he was ready for Sean McTavish.

This was what these past days of preparation had been for. Not only had he thoroughly scouted those caves, but he had prepared an escape route because it was always wise to have one close by when dealing with pirates. He’d taken axe and shovel to break through the bricked walls of the old smuggler’s tunnel. He had also concealed weapons in strategic locations within the cave, should the need arise.

Imogen’s pretty mouth was still going, and that clever mind of hers was spinning. “What dealings do you have with him? Does this connect him to Driscoll’s murder? Did you lure him here on purpose? That ring Lord Healey was wearing at your party and also last year when meeting with this Irishman tosses him into the mix as a suspect, doesn’t it? Do you think the Irishman ordered Lord Healey to kill Driscoll? Or did Healey act on his own and is now in fear the Irishman is going to come after him…right after he comes after you.”

“He is not coming after me.”

“That Irishman is at the heart of all this, isn’t he? But—”

“Imogen, enough. This is no time for an interrogation.” He kept his big hand on her shoulder and nudged her down again when she tried to stand up. “Parrot, for pity’s sake, stop licking Imogen’s face.”

The dog climbed atop her.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she muttered. “Draco, he is drooling on my hair.”

“You’ll wash it when you get home.”

“What a brilliant suggestion. I’m sure I never would have thought of it on my own.”

“Sarcasm does not suit you, Imogen. Stay down. I’m sure one of the Irishman’s crew is in the crow’s nest with a spyglass trained on me. You mustn’t be seen beside me.”

“Oh, all right. Are you going to stop holding me down so I can sneak back into the house?”

“Yes, as soon as they pass through the mouth of the cove and drop anchor.”

“Are they going to sail right up to the caves?”

“No, the water isn’t deep enough. They’ll enter the cove, but drop anchor about midway or risk getting stuck on a sandbar. Keep down. We’ll be out of their sight in a moment.”

“How will they get to shore?”

“They’ll lower boats off the side and row in from there. Listen carefully, Imogen. I’m going down to meet them. No one can follow me.”

She gasped. “Draco, you mustn’t! That Irishman will kill you.”

“Not this visit, he won’t,” he calmly replied. “I’ll let you up in a moment. Remember my instructions. Hurry back to the house, toss Deandra and my uncle into my carriage along with you, and then head straight to Westgate Hall. Do not look back.”

“And abandon you to these pirates?”

“I will be fine. I want you to get yourself and my family away from here. Do you understand? I will ride over to collect Deandra and my uncle as soon as I am done here. Promise me you’ll say nothing about this to your uncle.”

“I’ll do no such thing! Should I not have him summon Constable Angel?”

“Absolutely not.” He needed to engage these scoundrels, not chase them away.

“Or Fionn? He can bring his soldiers here to capture those—”

“No. Did you not hear me? I do not want them captured. I am going to handle this my way.”

“Oh, really? What way is that? Confront them on your own and have them shoot you full of holes? That is very clever.”

He sighed. “Imogen, I give you my word, they will not harm me today.”

“Only today? How can you be certain? They seem awfully dangerous, Draco.”

“I am just as dangerous.” He knelt beside her. “Stay down, Butterfly.”

“Again I must ask, how am I to get back to the house and carry out your instructions when you are still holding me down? Squatting in this position is quite uncomfortable, by the way. I’m sure I have stained my gown. Draco, I—”

“Stop talking, Imogen.” She had a beautiful mouth and big, lovely eyes. There was one more thing he needed to do before he let her go.

“Why must—”

His lips slashed across hers in a hot kiss meant to turn her insides liquid. Bloody blazes, if he was going to die, he wanted to die with the taste of Imogen’s sweet mouth on his tongue. He wanted to die with the scent of her body on his clothes.

He pressed his mouth deeper onto hers. He wanted to die knowing he had stolen her breath, scorched her soul, and captured her heart.

He wanted all those things.

Mostly, he wanted Imogen.

He was such an arse.

Why was he intent on confusing her? Had he not just warned her to keep away from him? And here he was, desperately tasting her, devouring her. Hopefully setting her innocent body aflame.

His was certainly on fire.

A shout from one of the sailors aboard the ship followed immediately by the sound of a rowboat dropping into the water had Draco abruptly breaking off the kiss. “Run, Imogen.”

She stared at him with big, scared eyes. “What about my sketchbook? You wanted to hide it.”

He nodded. “Take it back with you to Westgate Hall. Do not show those sketches of me to anyone. In fact, I would prefer if you burned them all.”

The angry look she cast him warned she never would. He hoped she would at least hide them for now.

“Draco, I will never forgive you if you get hurt,” she whispered brokenly.

“I promise you, I will not get hurt. They’re only here to speak to me. I’ll see you later at Westgate Hall.” He left her side and strode down the cliff steps toward the caves. Despite assuring Imogen he was not going to get hurt, in truth, it was quite possible he was completely mistaken and would not make it out alive. McTavish and his crewmen might come at him with weapons firing.

He had the advantage of knowing the terrain, and he had his own small arsenal of weapons tucked away inside the caves. He also had Parrot by his side to warn him of danger. However, he sincerely doubted the Irishman meant to kill him.

There were only six men in the rowboat coming to shore. No other boats had been let down.

He watched the men in the rowboat pull up onto the beach beside the caves, and kept watch on them as they stepped onto the sand to see what they would do next. They merely looked around, no doubt waiting for him to show his face. None of them held weapons in their hands. Nor did they appear to be reaching for weapons.

“Here we go,” Draco muttered, taking a deep breath as he marched down the steps onto the beach with Parrot by his side. “You’re early, McTavish,” he said, greeting their captain with a confidence he did not feel.

“I was in the area, Draco. Or should I refer to you as Lord Woodley now?” McTavish replied. “I thought I would take advantage of the high tide to check out these caves you have been touting.”

Draco shrugged. “They are more than adequate for your needs, but you should not have come here in daylight. Or shown up a week early without sending word. Did you not hear of the murder on my property?”

McTavish frowned. “I heard rumors but did not believe them. So, it is true? Someone was murdered here? What happened?”

Draco tried to measure his response, for it seemed McTavish had truly not known about the murder. “Lord Driscoll, a friend of my brother’s, was stabbed on these rocks. It happened on the night of the ball I held to welcome my neighbors.”

“A rather inauspicious beginning, Draco.”

“It did not endear me to my neighbors,” he said with a shrug. “But we’ve kept his death quiet. He wasn’t a local, so it was easy enough to suppress the news.”

He maintained a casual expression as he continued to study the Irishman and his crewmen for their reaction. But he saw no flash of recognition, not even in McTavish’s eyes.

Had his murder theories been all wrong? There was no doubt Healey had come down here that night to meet Driscoll. And Healey had been depicted in Imogen’s drawing talking to McTavish. She had drawn them together last year, so there had to be a connection. Or was it all coincidental?

“The murder should not interfere with our plans, McTavish. The prime suspect is an angry husband seeking revenge,” Draco said, preferring not to reveal he had made the connection to Healey and Burke. “The local constable is following up on that promising lead. He has a suspect in mind, but the man slipped through his fingers and fled back to London. The London magistrate has been notified and will take up the investigation. Nothing left for the local constable to do.”

“Any other suspects?”

Draco knew it was best to keep as close to the truth as possible. “Driscoll’s friends who were with him that night. I caught them running to their carriages just after the supper dance. Who flees the scene of a party unless they did something wrong? The constable could not hold them here either. He has sent their names to the London magistrate, who will take up that lead as well.”

“Any others beyond those friends?” McTavish asked.

Draco finally sensed concern in the man. He had to know by now that his cohorts Healey and Burke were at his masquerade ball, and that Healey was to meet Driscoll at some point during the night. “Aren’t these enough? But no, there’s no one else obvious. If the cuckolded husband proves to have an alibi, then the London magistrate will dig further into Driscoll’s friends. Anything you know about them? Do we need to worry what the magistrate might find out?”

“No,” McTavish replied. “They have no dealings with me.”

Draco nodded. “And Driscoll? Did he have any dealings with you?”

McTavish sneered. “I wouldn’t do business with that opium-eating bastard. Men like that are completely unreliable. They would betray their own grandmothers without a flicker of remorse.”

Which meant Driscoll had made contact with McTavish at some point, probably trying to set up an opium-smuggling enterprise, perhaps go in as partners with McTavish being the supplier and Driscoll the dealer.

Draco was not surprised McTavish had refused, first for moral reasons, because pirates were superstitious and believed the devil was in opium. Second, McTavish made a comfortable living smuggling guns along with the usual luxuries such as lace, perfume, and wine. The luxuries alone were a lucrative trade, but the guns had made him wealthy. He had little competition, since only a handful of smugglers were willing to handle the more dangerous merchandise. Authorities could be bribed to ignore bottles of wine and bits of lace, especially if they received gifts for themselves and their wives.

But they would not ignore guns. Nor would they ignore opium.

Driscoll was a boastful arse and a coward. He could not be trusted to be discreet about the operation if he were ever caught.

And he would have been caught.

“They are all wastrels, Driscoll and his friends,” Draco said. “Any one of them, or all of them conspiring, might have killed Driscoll. I’m sure he was into other shady dealings. Glad you had nothing to do with him. I won’t have you leading the authorities back to me, so you had better think hard before you assure me it is safe to work with you.”

McTavish laughed. “You are one to talk. He died on your property. What’s my assurance that it is safe to work with you?”

“It is safe. I knew nothing about Driscoll until that night, so there can be nothing to link me to him. The local constable has done all he can here, gone over these rocks and caves and the surrounding beach a dozen times. Any further investigation and arrests will happen in London, as I’ve said. If you are still uncertain, then wait a few weeks before delivering your first shipment to me. That should not disrupt the plan, should it? Or are your clients insisting on moving up the delivery date to this week? I can accommodate them, but you’ll have to give me details.”

Parrot had remained at Draco’s side as they stood on the beach. He suddenly growled at one of McTavish’s crewmen who had put his hand inside his jacket, no doubt to reach for a weapon. When Parrot growled again, the man froze but kept his hand hidden inside his jacket.

Draco wasn’t certain what he had said to incite him. Perhaps the man felt he was starting to ask questions about the client and did not like it.

“Eedjit, Woodley’s a friend,” McTavish snarled, motioning for the man to put his hand down. “Sorry, Draco. We are all on edge.”

“It shows, McTavish. You’ve blundered into my cove in the middle of the day. What if I had guests here? Everyone would have seen you.” Draco turned an accusing eye on him. “And now your man thinks to draw a weapon on me? What is this about? If you don’t trust me, then take yourself off and never return. I don’t do business with backstabbing cowards. If you don’t like my caves, then just say so and begone.”

“Ye always had a short fuse, Draco.” McTavish held out his hands in supplication and cast him an insincere smile to go along with his suddenly heavy Irish lilt that always came out when matters grew tense. “Don’t ye get all wound up. It was just a minor misunderstanding. Why don’t I have a look at your caves now? There’s water pouring in with the tide. Are ye sure our goods will remain dry if we load them in here?”

“Yes, I’m sure. We are now at high tide. The water won’t go above your waist, but that’s just at the entrance. Once we wade through, we’ll just be walking on wet rocks.” Draco turned his attention to the man who had started to draw his weapon. “But that man and the one beside him do not come in with us. I have no wish to be shot in the back. You can bring the others along.”

McTavish had reddish-blond hair and a pale complexion typical of the Irish. His face now turned red with an angry flush. “How do I know you are not going to shoot me once we are in the caves?”

“If I meant to shoot you, I would have done it as you were landing on the beach.” Draco scowled at him. “I am a man of honor. If I give you my word, I keep it. Will you give me your word to do the same?”

“Not to shoot you? Do you trust me, Draco?”

“We’ve dealt honorably with each other in the past, McTavish. But frankly, I am beginning to have my doubts.”

“I can be trusted,” the Irishman insisted, scowling. “As a show of good faith, I’ll even leave a third man behind and just bring these two along.”

Draco eyed them warily. He saw they carried knives but no firearms. Of course, the promises made had been not to shoot each other. The Irishman could order him stabbed and still claim to have kept his word. Well, this was no Vienna peace negotiation. Parrot would warn him if one of those crewmen drew a knife. “Come along, then. I don’t have all day.”

Draco lit a torch and led them into the largest cave.

“Why don’t you keep a lantern handy?” McTavish asked.

“I would have by next week when you were supposed to arrive. The torch is the best I can do for now.” It was also something Draco could easily douse to plunge them in darkness if these men tried anything. He and Parrot knew every inch of this cave by heart. He had prepared an escape route and hidden weapons all along it.

Lord, why was he doing this?

Having made his fortune, he could have retired to Woodley Lodge as a man of leisure. But no, idiot that he was, he had allowed his loyalty to the Crown to cloud his judgment. Why else would he have agreed to assist the Home Office in breaking up a rebel plot?

Water surrounded him up to his hips as Draco led the three men through the cave entrance and along the dank walls to the cavernous opening. Parrot swam at the rear, keeping up with their group. This was the most dangerous moment because Parrot did not have the foothold necessary to leap at anyone who tried to attack him.

But as the cave widened, the water ran off along other naturally carved tunnels, leaving the cavernous area with only a few inches of water covering the stone floor. “There will be tables set up to place your goods. This portion of the cave never fills with water except in the most severe storms. Even then, the goods should remain safe. We’ll just store them up a little higher.”

“And the other caves on your property?”

“They’ll stay dry, too. But they are not as big as this one. I’ll take whatever goods you want delivered. If this cave is full, I’ll stow the oversupply in one of the others. My fee must be paid in advance, before a single item is delivered into my custody. I do not extend credit.”

“What I want to know,” the Irishman said slowly and with a threatening edge to his voice, “is why does a privateer who is now a respected earl want to continue in his profession? I hear you are now rich as Croesus. Why take the risk?”

“It is in my blood, as you can well understand. As for my wealth, I acquired it long before I became an earl and could have retired any time I wished. Inheriting the earldom has its privileges, but it also comes with heavy obligations. I am now saddled with massive debts left behind by my brother, the former earl. I also have recurring expenses in maintaining the farms, mills, houses, racehorses, carriages. Well, you get the idea. The restoration of Woodley Lodge alone cost me an arm and a leg.”

McTavish’s gaze darted around the cavern as though he were expecting a trap. “I don’t know. I still don’t like it.”

Draco shrugged. “It is up to you. I’ll find other takers or simply use it to store my own goods once I get back on the high seas. The repairs to my own ship will be completed soon. It seems to me that you need me more than I need you.”

“Then answer me this…why have you been in touch with the Home Office?”

Bollocks.

How did he know about that?

“Does that scare you, McTavish? It was only to report my suspicions about the cuckold husband who happens to work for them. Driscoll was my brother’s friend. He was killed on my property. If the Home Office thinks they can hush this up to protect one of their own, my letter assured them otherwise. Not that it is any of your business. We are done here. Get back to your ship and don’t ever sail into my cove again.”

“You’re a prickly fellow, aren’t you?” McTavish cast him another insincere smile. “No need to get irate. You understand why I have to be sure about you.”

“Trust goes both ways. If I give you my word, you can count on it. You know this. I have always dealt fairly with you. That is my reputation, and nothing has changed.”

The Irishman held out his hand. “All right, we have a deal. I’ll be in touch with you next week with details. We’ve already arranged to meet at the Three Lions next week. Let’s keep that appointment. I need to get those deliveries underway.”

Draco pretended to mull it over, then nodded and shook McTavish’s hand. “All right. Until next week. I’ll accept your first delivery, and we shall see how it goes from there. However, all discussions take place at the Three Lions from now on. I don’t want you or your men ever to come here again unless it is to deliver goods under cover of night. I’ll shoot anyone who dares to show up here in broad daylight again.”

He led the way out of the cave, his senses once again heightened as he gave his back to these rogues. Parrot brought up the rear, as he was trained to do. Draco expected to hear a warning growl, quite certain McTavish would now order him killed. The air of distrust between them while in the cavern had been thick enough to carve with a knife.

He had only himself to blame, for he had been sloppy in sending that first letter off to the Home Office. Thaddius Angel might have mentioned it to others, or others might have seen it as they handed their mail over to Thaddius. Just that first time, for the innkeeper had taken the matter more seriously afterward and been discreet…Draco hoped.

Then again, Imogen seemed able to coax information out of Thaddius at will.

He sighed.

Blessed saints, it would be a miracle if he came out of this unscathed.

He watched McTavish as they stepped out of the cave. The Irishman might have had no idea of any letters sent and merely mentioned the Home Office as a stab in the dark. Draco could not risk being wrong about that. When lying, it was always better to stick as close to the truth as possible, even when the truth was damning.

He doused the torch now that they had emerged in bright sunlight and set it back in place just above the cave opening. Having done that, he waited for McTavish’s next move. Draco remained convinced the man was going to order him shot, but Parrot was not growling, and his crew was now climbing back into their rowboat.

Draco stood on the beach and watched them as they returned to the Drogheda and climbed aboard. “What do you think, Parrot? Are they going to fire a cannonball at us?”

The dog barked at him in indignation, as though to say it was all Draco’s fault if they did.

Draco knelt to give him a well-deserved scratch behind his ears. “Well done, Parrot. Sorry you had to get wet. I know how you hate the water, although I don’t know how a pirate’s dog bred for swimming can dislike it as much as you do.”

Parrot barked at him again.

“Yes, but it wasn’t my fault they came here at high tide.” Draco waited until the Drogheda sailed out of sight before climbing back up the cliff steps and returning to the house. But first, he gathered up Imogen’s art supplies and easel that had been left strewn about the garden.

Lord, this girl.

Those items were precious to Imogen, and he did not wish to see them ruined. No doubt Imogen was fretting over her supplies more than she was fretting over him.

And how was he to face her after that kiss?

Why could he not have left well enough alone?

Wescott hurried out of the house as Draco approached with his bundles. “My lord,” he said, his brow furrowed in worry as he took the easel out of his hand, “may I ask what happened? What was that ship doing in the cove? I wanted to follow you down with some of the footmen, but Lady Imogen was adamant we stay right here. May I say, I was extremely worried for your safety.”

“Thank you, Wescott,” Draco said. “But it turned out to be nothing. Mistaken direction, that is all. The captain is an acquaintance of mine, so I greeted him and sent him off on the right course.”

Wescott pinched his lips, obviously annoyed by Draco’s feeble explanation which was an obvious lie. “Very good, my lord. Just let us know if there is anything we can do to help out in the event of future misdirection.”

“That won’t be necessary, Wescott. I’m sure it will not happen again.” Draco handed over the rest of Imogen’s supplies. “Put those in my study for now. I had better change out of these wet clothes before I ride over to Westgate Hall.”

Wescott balanced the bundles in his arms as best as he could and followed him indoors. “Will the ladies be going with you, my lord?”

Draco paused at the foot of the stairs. “What?”

“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. His spyglass, no less. Taken from his bedchamber, 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 protect you, 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.”

“And you think you could have shot them all before they landed on the beach and came at you?”

She nodded.

“You, Imogen? You are a little butterfly and could never hurt anyone.”

“Wescott and your footmen would not have been so compassionate. Besides, if it came to a choice between your life or theirs, I would always choose to save you.”

“Even if it meant shooting a man dead?”

Her face paled, but she maintained her defiant posture. “I would have shot anyone taking aim at you. Perhaps not to kill, but…”

He wanted to stay mad at her, but how could he? He loved her gentle spirit and that softness about her.

He loved so many things about her, although he would never let on, or she would run roughshod over him.

“I’m sure those pirates have had years of training in battle,” she said, determined to convince him what she had done was right, “but we would have positioned ourselves behind the rocks and easily held the advantage being on higher ground, fully armed with plentiful ammunition, and well hidden while they were completely exposed on the beach.”

“You sound quite confident of your plan.”

“Because it is a sensible one. I would have aimed for their captain first, because Uncle Cormac taught me that if you take down the leader, then the others will lay down their weapons. I’m not sure it would have worked. They all looked like scurvy knaves, especially that scoundrel who was standing beside their captain. In truth, their captain reminded me a little of you. His features were quite interesting, and there was intelligence in his eyes. That’s probably why I felt compelled to draw him when I saw him by the fish market last year.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and growled. “The second worst thing that happened to me today is that I got my clothes wet. Can you guess what the worst thing was?”

Imogen shot daggers at him.

“Nothing to say? Not even a guess? The worst thing that happened is that I gave you an order and you disobeyed it. Outright, flagrantly disregarded it. Imogen, what if those men had meant harm? You could have gotten hurt.”

Imogen tipped her chin up in her now-familiar gesture of indignation. “First of all, you kept assuring me that those rogues were not going to cause you harm. If you were lying to me, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Second of all, I am a lady and trained to run a proper house. A lady does not abandon those under her care.”

“First of all, this is not your house. Second of all, a lady holds teas, attends Society meetings to discuss charitable works, and devotes her time to making the marital abode comfortable for her husband. A lady does not raid my gun cabinet or prepare to fight pirates. I am telling your uncle about your insolent behavior.”

“Fine, and I shall tell him about our scorching kiss.”

Deandra, who had been listening avidly to their entire conversation, emitted a shriek. “He kissed you?”

Imogen smiled at her. “Yes, Deandra. Your cousin kissed me breathless.”

Deandra shrieked again. “Oh, Imogen! When? Why did you not tell me?”

Draco groaned.

Holy mother of sea gods.

This was what Imogen and Deandra were going to remember out of this day? How had matters gotten so badly out of hand?

Well, he knew how, since he was the one who had blundered badly in kissing Imogen, and now she was never going to let him forget it. She had not said anything yet about their pact, but he had kissed her, and now they would be betrothed because he had no intention of reneging on that promise.

Stupid.

Stupid.

This is what came of thinking with one’s nether region instead of one’s head. In his defense, he thought it possible he was going to die and wanted a last taste of Imogen before he departed this world.

“Go put your art supplies in order, Imogen. You’ll find them in my study.”

“Come along, Deandra.” She took his cousin by the hand, and the two of them sauntered out of the room with victorious smiles on their faces.

He was left standing alone, sopping wet, and still dripping water onto Deandra’s new carpet.

“I’d rather face the Irishman,” Draco muttered to Parrot, the only faithful friend he had in this house.

He stalked to his bedchamber, tossed off his shirt, and then took a towel to Parrot, who was now whining because he was still wet. Draco had just finished drying off the pampered hound when he heard a light knock at his door. “Come in, Kendall,” he said with impatience, expecting his newly hired valet. “Do not berate me again about the state of my clothes. It cannot be helped. And—” He had tossed aside the towel and opened the door only to find Imogen standing before him. “Blessed saints, is there no getting rid of you?”

Imogen pursed her lips and frowned. “You said I may come in.”

“I thought you were my valet.”

“I did not realize you had one.”

“He is newly acquired, not that it is any of your business. Nor do I need a nursemaid for myself, but my uncle was adamant that all proper gentlemen ought to have a valet. No doubt his old biddy of a cousin, Lady Claudia, insisted upon it.”

“So you indulged your uncle and hired one?” She cast him a soft smile. “That was nice of you. He must have been so pleased his opinion was valued.”

Draco sighed.

“It is a good thing you did, Draco. An experienced valet will know how to keep your clothes in shape. You do have an aptitude for ruining them.”

“And you have an aptitude for turning up wherever you should not be.” Were he not still irritated over the surprise visit from McTavish, he would have used his brain and simply shut the door, leaving Imogen to sputter and pout indignantly in the hall.

But he was so riled about everything that had gone wrong today that, instead of shutting her out, he drew her into his bedchamber, closed the door behind them, and trapped her against the wall by placing his arms on either side of her shoulders and leaning in close enough to feel her soft breaths against his chest. “Why did you come up here? To make sure I would stick to our pact? I made you a promise, and I always honor my promises.”

She stared at him with her big, beautiful eyes. “Oh, Draco. No. I would never hold you to it. How could you think I ever would? In fact, I came here to assure you that I would release you from all such obligations. You must not feel compelled to honor our silly marriage pact.”

“Why let me off so easily? I am an earl, you know. No other young lady would let me off so lightly. In truth, they would not let me off at all.”

“But I am, for my sake as much as yours. I would never force you or any man to marry me. I wish to marry for love, not for reasons of scandal or trickery.”

“It’s about those moonstones, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “I want them to shine for me. They won’t if you feel coerced into marriage. If you ever do propose to me, it must be because your heart aches for me and you cannot live without me. But I am glad you kissed me. It was another wonderful kiss, wasn’t it? True, I was squatting and could not get up while you were holding me down, and pirates were about to attack.”

“Imogen, they were not going to attack.”

“They might have,” she insisted. “This is another thing I wished to discuss with you. What was that confrontation with the captain of the Drogheda really about?”

“What are you going to do if I refuse to tell you?”

She cast him another stubborn look. “Persist, probably.”

He eased closer so that his mouth was almost upon hers and their breaths mingled. “And what are you going to do if I kiss you again?”

“Melt and kiss you back with all my heart, in all likelihood. I would love for you to kiss me again.”

He groaned. “Imogen, why would you tell me something like that?”

Her eyes widened. “Should I have lied to you and pretended you mean nothing to me?”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately, I am a terrible liar. In fact, you had better not ask me the question if you are not prepared to hear the truth.”

“The question? What is the question?”

“It is not something I am going to tell you, but something you ought to know on instinct. I’ll wait until you figure it out.”

“Then you will have quite a long wait.” How could this girl be so lovable and at the same time so aggravating? “Enough, Imogen. Are you going to tell me what this mysterious question is, or must I guess?”

“I’m sorry, Draco. You will have to figure it out on your own. May I leave now? Or are you going to kiss me first?”