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“On the contrary,” he scoffed. “As I see it, you are following in your sister’s footsteps. She managed to escape the north by marrying a duke, and you thought you would do the same. But rather than taking a more traditional route…” He scoffed again. “You opted for a shortcut.”

“What? No!” Margaret felt herself getting angry. “I was dru – tired,” she corrected quickly. “I thought this was my room.”

“Were you not tipped off by the fact that someone else was sleeping in here? Do you make a habit of climbing into bed with random men?”

“It was mirk,” she cried loudly. “I did nae see ye.”

“That seems unlikely.”

The anger was building inside of her. Fury at having her word questioned.

And so rudely! Margaret had little experience with dukes, or members of the ton, but she knew enough to know that they did not like being snapped and snarled at.

Being from the Highlands as she was, Margaret was not as accustomed to the expectations of how a lady might act in this situation, but she knew enough to know that she should have apologized, asked for forgiveness, and quickly exited the room before she did or said anything foolish.

But Margaret had always been hot-headed. And rarely did she think first and act later. It was a mode of operation that had gotten her into trouble often, but that she was a slow learner was yet another reason that this wasn’t about to change anytime soon.

“And what of ye?” she accused him hotly.

“What of me?”

“How do I ken that ye did nae slip into the room after I was already asleep?” She widened her eyes at him. “That you did nae see an innocent woman alone in bed and thought you’d have some fun with it!”

The duke’s dark eyes glimmered as if a fire had been lit behind them. His jaw clenched. His body turned rigid. “How dare you accuse me of such things?”

“And how dare ye accuse me!” she fired back. “I dae nae ken how this has happened. Nor dae I ken what ye intent is.”

“My intent is to find out –”

“I said I dae nae care!” She bunched up the blanket and started toward him.

“What are you doing?” He took a quick step back.

“You wish to ken what my intent is?” she laughed. “I have always found action speaks louder than words. So, with that in mind, I am leavin’ ye. Good day.” And with that, she stormed past him, headed for the door.

“Wait!” The duke grabbed her by the arm.

His touch was explosive. She felt it ripple up her arm and spread across her body so that she very nearly yelped.

The duke pulled her back into his body, and before she knew it, she was standing face to face with him, their bodies pressed together, the only thing separating them the blanket, which was suddenly feeling much thinner than it had before.

“What are ye –”

“Quiet,” he hissed down at her.

Margaret’s heart was thumping. Her breathing was heavy.

The duke held her close. As he did, his blue eyes searched her eyes as if to check that she would not try and flee, only for those same eyes to stray further south and pause as they reached her chest…

a moment of hesitation as if he was struggling to look away.

She was dressed in nothing but a shift. Practically naked, it felt like.

And he had on just breeches and a nightshirt, through which she could see the outline of his thick chest and a smattering of dark hair.

She could not help but gasp, which had his eyes snapping upward finally to meet her own.

He held them, widening them at her to keep quiet.

She was shaking by then, her body warming, her breathing growing more haphazard by the second.

That they were alone was one thing, but that they were standing so close and with so little on…

wha’ is that feelin’ ripplin’ up me body?

“You cannot simply barge out of here,” he said, his voice dropping now to a whisper. His eyes flicked down her neck again… paused again… and were then back on her face. “Think!”

“W—why not?” she stammered, hardly able to speak, such were the thoughts which crashed upon her as she tried to keep calm. But it was impossible to do, and she could not help but focus on the duke’s body pressed into her.

“You claim you do not wish to trap me in a scandal?” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she nodded, for she was having a hard time forming words. “Then how will it look if you stumble from my bedroom wearing little more than a blanket?”

“I –” She caught her tongue for his words made too much sense to argue with. Plus, she did not trust herself. Not one little bit. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

“Then what should we do?”

He clicked his tongue. “You are to put your clothes back on. Do what you can to appear presentable. As you do, I will sneak from the room, after which you will wait at least an hour before following me.” The eyebrow remained raised, and she could see just how worried he was. “Is that understood?”

“Y–yes,” she stammered. “I think so.”

“Good,” he said. “Now, get dressed.”

He was still holding her by the arm. Still pulling her into his muscular body. He gave the order, but he did not move to let her go. Margaret frowned and looked at his large hand around her bare arm, then up at him. His frown deepened, as if he did not understand…

“Oh. Yes, right.” He let her go and turned, and the spell was broken. “Quickly.”

Margaret eyed his back for a moment. She felt confused, as much as anything.

For a time there, she had honestly suspected him of sneaking into her room as she slept, as if he were the one who was preying on her.

Now, she could see that all this was likely a misunderstanding.

A good thing, then, that like the duke, she had no desire to be caught in a scandal.

“I will be a moment…” She looked about and spied her clothes bunched on the floor. She sighed and shook her head. I am never getting’ on the swill again . The blanket fell from her. She checked again that the duke was not looking. And then, she started across the room.

The door to the room swung open, and in walked a young lady whom Margaret did not recognize.

“Oh!” the young lady gasped when she saw Margaret and the duke. “I am so sorry – I thought this room to be mine.” She looked between the two, her eyes growing wide as she grasped what it was that she had come upon.

“Lady Clementine, not in there!” a voice sang from just over her shoulder.

“That is not your room!” Through the door next came the hostess of the party, Lady Marlow.

“Quickly now, best that you…” she trailed off as she took note of the duke and Margaret, half-naked, standing before an unmade bed, having so clearly just woken up.

Her mouth hung open in shock. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. Her chin began to wobble. And she might have cried out, had her breath not left her.

To make matters worse, a moment later, she was joined by her husband, and then two members of staff. They crowded into the room, took note of the scene before them, and all well-laid plans and attempts at subterfuge dissolved like a dream moments after waking.

And as for Margaret? All she could do was grimace with awkwardness, chastising herself not just for drinking the previous evening, but for having come to London at all.

So much for avoidin’ a scandal…