Page 4 of A Whisper Of Desire (The Disgraced Lords #4)

Chapter Two

M arisa woke from what she thought must have been a very deep sleep.

Her head was a deadweight on her pillow.

She’d obviously drunk too much champagne at Lord Dunmire’s ball, and she had a serious headache.

If she moved, pounding drums began at her temples and moved to the back of her head.

She didn’t want to open her eyes and face the day, but the thought that Rutherford might call, and that this could be the day he proposed, saw her brave any discomfort the sunlight might deliver.

Her lady’s maid, Susan, always pulled back the blinds in the morning, so she pried one eye open and was surprised and relieved to find it was still dark, with only soft dawn light visible where the curtains met.

Joy! She could sleep for a few more hours and get rid of this throbbing head. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, snuggling down in the bedclothes.

She was just drifting off, her breathing in time with the drums playing in her head, when a large snore sounded close to her ear.

For a minute she thought she had dreamt the sound, but then a large, hard body curled round her, dragging her back against a very male front.

She swallowed her panic and nausea. Someone had invaded her room and was in bed with her, and they were naked.

She should scream; her brother would be here in a flash and he would kill whoever was trying . . . But her bedmate wasn’t trying to do anything. He was doing nothing but holding her gently in his arms.

Oh, dear. She knew she’d been light-headed at the ball but she’d swear she had not drunk much. She blamed her moment of madness with Maitland for her giddiness. She remembered dancing the second waltz with Rutherford. Had she grown too bold and invited him to sneak into her bedchamber?

Why couldn’t she remember?

She looked over her shoulder without disturbing her bedmate. Her heart sped up. It wasn’t Rutherford, for the man’s hair was dark.

With headache forgotten, she eased back the covers so as not to alert her captor, and viciously dug her nails into the arm wrapped around her waist, until with a loud curse the hairy arm disappeared and she could jump free.

She was almost to the door when she looked down and realized she was naked as the day she was born. She never went to bed naked, it was unseemly. She tried not to let panic seize her, but her throat was so tight she could barely breathe. If the Libertine Scholars’ enemy had got hold of her . . .

She spun round and made to reach for the quilt lying at the end of the bed when a voice yelled, “Christ, Marisa, what on earth are you doing in my room?” She watched in disbelief as Maitland Spencer, Duke of Lyttleton, sat up, swiped a hand over his eyes, and muttered, “What a beautiful sight. I must be dreaming.”

Marisa grabbed for the quilt to cover her nakedness. While His Grace fell back among the pillows, holding his head and murmuring, she took a moment to look round the room. It certainly wasn’t her bedchamber. How had she got here?

When she gazed back at Maitland her mouth dried and her face heated.

The sheet had slid down his body and exposed his muscled chest, and her eyes followed the trail of hair down to where it disappeared under the sheet lying below his hipbones.

Looking at the cut of muscle above his groin, emphasizing his hips, was like looking at perfection.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautifully masculine.

Her eyes roamed back up over his torso to meet eyes flared with passion and a quirked eyebrow.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked with a gravelly, “I’ve just woken up with a bad head” kind of voice.

When she remained speechless, he added, “You know, after our tête-à-tête in the alcove this evening, I thought I’d made it clear I was attracted to you.

There was no need to drug me in order to have your wicked way with me. ”

“Drug you,” she spluttered. That was what the unusual taste in her mouth was. She’d been drugged. “I certainly didn’t drug you.” A terrible thought entered her head. “Did you do this to try and compromise me?”

He laced his hands behind his head, leaving the sheet low on his hips, understanding perfectly well what the sight of his nakedness was doing to her.

“I was joking, little one. We have obviously both been drugged and placed in this room. I suspect that the door’s locked.

” He didn’t look any happier than she did at their predicament.

He’d closed his eyes and the frown deepened on his brow.

She stood silently watching him, hoping he’d come up with some miraculous solution to this dreadful situation.

He let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face. She could hear the friction of his palm against the dark stubble. “This is disastrous.”

She closed her eyes and tried to stop herself from screaming. “Surely there is a way to escape this trap. Can’t you think of something?”

“You standing there virtually naked is a distraction, little one. Give me a moment to gather my thoughts. I’ve only just woken up.”

He wasn’t lying. She could see the banked fire in his eyes begin to light. She hugged the quilt tighter against herself, hoping it covered as much of her as possible. She certainly wasn’t brave enough to flaunt her body like he was his; but then, he did have a spectacular body.

Impossible man. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, cover yourself and do something to get us out of here. In fact, turn your head and don’t look while I wrap this quilt around me.”

“You’re bossy in the morning.” With a wink that looked so strange on his normally stoic features he turned his head to the side, and she quickly wrapped the material round her and under her arms, with the last bit thrown over one shoulder like a cape.

“You can look . . .” He was already looking.

“I saw you were finished in the mirror.”

Marisa looked to the right, the direction his head was turned toward, and there was a mirror. He’d watched her. Heat prickled her skin and she wanted to slap his smug face.

He rolled onto his side and patted the bed next to him. “Don’t get angry. I simply followed your instructions. It’s not my fault you didn’t check the room for mirrors. I thought you beautiful before in your ball gown, but seeing you as God intended makes a man want to weep.”

Her heart was thudding in her chest so loud she could almost hear it. Maitland’s words were said with so much sincerity she almost took a step toward the bed.

“I may have suggested a marriage earlier in the evening, but I would never dishonor you to achieve that goal.”

She fought with herself, trying not to take her anger out on Maitland. “I know that. You would never do that to me, or Sebastian. Then why are we here?”

“Good question. I suggest we try to ascertain the how, and then the why, and then the who.”

She continued to stand near the door, trying to keep the quilt from unraveling and exposing any more of her person than was necessary. The way he drank her in unnerved her. No man had ever looked at her with such longing, not even Rutherford.

“You may be able to lie there all calm and collected, but Sebastian must be looking for me; he’ll be beside himself with worry.” She turned to scan the room, looking for her clothes. When she could see none, she felt tears building. “I have to get home.”

In one fluid motion, Maitland rose from the bed, all lethal panther, with muscles rippling under his skin. She tried not to look, but her eyes were drawn down and down, but to her disappointment he’d pulled the sheet with him, wrapping it round his hips.

“We don’t know what is outside that door, Marisa. If, as I assume you’ve already deduced, this is the work of our villainess, then it would pay to be careful. Until I know it’s safe, you have to stay here.”

A woman they’d named De Palma was bent on destroying the Libertine Scholars. She’d almost destroyed Marisa’s brother a few months ago, and now it looked as if she was after Maitland.

He moved past her to the door and pressed his ear against it, holding up a finger for her to be quiet. After a moment, he said, “I hear nothing.”

“That’s good, right?”

He shrugged and the sculptured muscles rippled once more. This was not the time to be a silly romantic young girl staring at her first naked torso.

“Hide on the floor near the other side of the bed and don’t come out until I’m back.”

“You’re leaving me?” She grabbed for him, almost dropping her quilt. She gripped his large hand as if she’d die if she let it go. “Don’t leave me here. I want to come with you.”

Maitland pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair as if calming a distressed child. “I promise I’m only going to try and learn where we are being held. I won’t go far. I would never leave you here, I promise.” Then he lifted her face and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

She didn’t know if it was the kiss or the feel of his skin or the fear of being left here alone, but she threw herself into his arms and kissed him as if he was the last man on earth.

The kiss soon swept them both away. Her hands wound into his hair while his roamed her body as if he had every right to it.

The sheet wrapped round his hips afforded very little protection from the instant response of his body.

It stirred desire deep within her and she let her hands do what they’d wanted to do ever since seeing his naked torso.

She ran her hands down his back, shocking herself as she slipped her hands beneath the sheet to cup his buttocks, pulling him closer.

He moaned deep into her mouth and she felt him tug at the quilt. She eased away from him so he could pull it from her body. As it dropped to the floor her inhibitions went with it.

This could be their last day on earth and she wanted to give in to the passion Maitland stirred in her. She’d think about the consequences once they were rescued.