Maggie MacKeever Read Online Free PDF Page B

been drawn, the fire let die down until mere embers glowed on the hearth. The chamber’s gloom was broken only by the single lighted candle on the shaving stand. Wondering whether his valet might have got into the whiskey, Quin tossed his coat in the general direction of a chair. He pulled off his cravat, unfastened his trousers, sat down on the edge of the bed to pull off his shoes—
    And paused. His nostrils twitched. The hair on the back of his neck stirred. Before he could collect his wits, small strong hands grasped Quin’s shoulders and pulled him down on his back.
    The hands seemed determined to remove more of his clothing. The hands’ owner smelled as if she’d rolled through a particularly pungent flower bed.
    No wonder Wibbert had been jumpy as a cat on a hot bake-stone.
    Quin’s eyes had grown accustomed to the shadows. He made out the shapely form of his assailant, who was clad only in a thin shift, and struggling with one of his boots.
    He jerked his foot away and said, “Give over, Liliane.” The boot thudded to the floor.
    “ Oui, c’est moi!” Liliane flung herself atop him, effectively hampering his escape. Her plump breasts flattened against his chest, a not-unpleasant sensation, as noted by a portion of Quin’s anatomy not directly connected with his brain. They lay thigh to thigh, belly to—
    She wriggled. You see?! We are très sympathique . I suggest—”
     “ I suggest,” growled Quin, as he grasped her arms and pushed her off him, “you pray to le bon Dieu that I do not strangle you . ”
    “Voyons!” Liliane hurled herself at him, scrabbling for a hold. “Oof!Ah, now I have you, milord.”
    She had him, indeed. Quin froze.
    “Ooh, là là!” cooed Liliane, giving him a none-too-gentle squeeze. “You are magnifique ! Splendide. Formidable— ”
    “Whereas you are inapproprié .” Kate stood in the doorway of the adjoining chamber, a lighted candle in her hand. “Unhand my fiancé,mademoiselle.”
    “Your fiancé?”Liliane shot off the bed as if she’d been stung by hornets. “ Merde! ”
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    Quin grasped Liliane by the elbow, snatched up her clothing from the chest where she had neatly placed it, and propelled her into the hallway. Kate heard their quiet voices but could not make out the words.
    She raised her lighted candle and inspected the room. It was a remarkably ordinary chamber, from the tall wardrobe to the short chest of drawers to the corner shaving stand fitted out in Spode blue and white. A mahogany wing armchair was drawn up in a cozy manner near the hearth. A Turkey carpet covered the wooden floor.
    These were hardly the sort of surroundings in which one imagined orgies taking place. Kate eyed the canopied bed. Somemanner of activity had been about to take place, and without Quin’s cooperation, judging from the conversation she had overheard.
    Honestly, she’d just meant to take a peek.
    Curiosity was a character trait not limited to felines.
    Quin returned, closed the door and leaned against it. Kate spun round to face him, mortified at having been discovered staring at his bed. The man should have looked ridiculous, rumpled and disheveled, his shirt pulled out of his breeches — which may or may not have been unfastened, she didn’t dare look — and wearing only one boot. He did not. Kate’s mouth went dry. Quin in disarray was temptation personified.
    Meanwhile, she was swathed in a voluminous night garment that covered her from head to toe.
    Not that she had come here to be ravished, which was a good thing since Quin clearly had no interest in ravishing her. Doubtless she failed to meet the Black Baron’s standards. Kate felt like smashing her candlestick over his rakehelly head.
    “This has set the cat among the pigeons,” he said, as he moved away from the door. “Why the devil did you tell Liliane we are betrothed?”
    He was cross, realized Kate, and for good reason. Whereas she had no right to be annoyed at finding a