Island Flame

by ROBARDS, KAREN

  “Megan,” he said, sounding as uncomfortable as he felt but feeling that he had to warn her. She had already taken a few steps toward the door, but as he spoke she looked back over her shoulder.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “My dear, it would be best if you didn’t mention your visit to my bedroom to anyone, even the Donovans. I realize you might not understand why, but . . .”

  “Is it because people might think we were lovers?” Megan asked. Justin felt his jaw drop. He stared at her for a moment without speaking. Damn it, he was blushing like a schoolboy. The pictures her words conjured up stunned him with their vividness.

  “That is a most improper question!” he snapped, still shaken.

  Megan did not look particularly abashed. “I know,” she acknowledged, smiling a little. “Young ladies are supposed to pretend that they don’t know about such things. But I thought that you and I could speak frankly. Can we not?”

  Justin felt harassed. This whole day had turned into a disaster of major proportions. Quite how it had happened, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that it was somehow all tied up with this maddening girl who was even now looking at him so guilelessly with her violet eyes. He thought of his plan to break her to bridle, and inwardly acknowledged that this particular filly might well give him more trouble than he had anticipated. The problem was, she was so goddamned beautiful . . .

  “Oh, yes, of course you can speak frankly to me,” he said, giving up the battle for the moment. What he needed most now was time alone to recover his balance. “Run to your bed, like a good girl, and we’ll sort this whole thing out tomorrow.”

  “All right.” She smiled seraphically at him. “Good night, my lord.”

  “Good night,” Justin answered automatically.

  Megan was just reaching out to touch the door handle when a sharp rap sounded on the door. She and Justin both started.

  “Wait!” Justin called out imperiously, consternation plain in his eyes as he met Megan’s. She was chewing nervously on her lower lip as she backed quickly away from the door.

  “I’ve only come to put a warming pan in your bed, my lord.” Mrs. Donovan’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Them sheets get dreadful musty!”

  “Just a minute, Mrs. Donovan!” Justin responded. He was tempted to tell her to forget the warming pan, that he didn’t need it, but he was afraid that she might think there was something strange in that. After all, the night would be cold.

  “Get under the bed,” he whispered to Megan, coming swiftly to her side. She looked up at him, surprised, and then started to giggle.

  “Hush!” he warned her, pushing her, one arm over to the side of the bed. “It won’t do for her to find you here. Now get under there, and for God’s sake be quiet until I tell you to come out.”

  “Worried about your reputation, my lord?” she whispered saucily, but when Justin glared at her without answering, she did as she was told. He waited just long enough to make sure that no part of her showed before crossing to sit before the fire. When he was settled, he told Mrs. Donovan to come in.

  She threw him a quick look before moving to the bed to pull back the covers and push the warming pan between the sheets. From her silence, Justin gathered that she was very much on her dignity; probably she thought he held her to blame for Megan’s wild behavior at the so-called birthday party. Justin would have set her mind at rest if Megan hadn’t been under the bed. He was afraid that she might pop out like a jack-in-the-box and cause all three of them no end of embarrassment.

  Mrs. Donovan plumped the pillows, then turned away from the bed. “If that’s all you require, my lord?” she asked, eager to please. Justin nodded, wanting to be rid of her, but she wasn’t ready to go.

  “Was there anything wrong with the meal, my lord?” she asked, glancing at the untouched supper tray. Justin sighed inwardly, knowing that of all things, she prided herself on her cooking. And, as he thought with some longing, it was indeed something to be proud of. He had no doubt the dinner was delicious.

  “No, not at all, Mrs. Donovan,” he said hastily. “I just felt a trifle unwell, that’s all. All that traveling, you know.”

  Her face softened. A bad traveler herself, he had picked on the one excuse she understood.

  “You should have said something, my lord,” she reproached him, moving closer to stare at him with motherly concern. “I would have prepared you one of my own special purges. Nothing like it for setting a queasy stomach to rights again.”

  “That’s not necessary, Mrs. Donovan.” Justin tried to keep her from seeing his shudder. Once, as a young boy, he had been visiting Maam’s Cross Court and had eaten too many green apples. Mrs. Donovan had dosed him with one of her famous purges, and the cure had been far worse than the ailment. Not even for the sake of his ward’s reputation would he suffer through that again.

  “Very well, my lord, if you say so.” From her tone, Mrs. Donovan would have dearly loved to argue with him, if she had dared. “With your permission, then, I’ll take the tray back downstairs. When a body’s sick, he don’t want to smell food!”

  She barely waited for Justin’s faint assent before snatching up the tray and heading for the door. Justin watched his dinner disappear with a feeling of inevitability. Going hungry to his bed would put the cap on a miserable day, he thought bleakly as the door closed behind the housekeeper.

  She had barely gone before Megan was scrambling out from under the bed. The minx was covered with dust—apparently the maids didn’t consider it necessary to sweep under his bed!—and grinning from ear to ear. Justin regarded her with a jaundiced eye, not bothering to get to his feet.

  “I hope you’re happy,” he said morosely. “You just cost me my dinner.”

  “I’m sorry.” The grin vanished; she sounded genuinely contrite as she crossed the room to stand looking down at him worriedly. “If you’re really hungry, I can raid the kitchen for you later. I used to do it all the time at school.”

  “I think I can live without eating for one night. Now get along to your own bed. Scoot!”

  “Are you sure? I’m really very good at it, you know!”

  “I’m sure!” Justin’s voice was firm. “Now get going before Mrs. Donovan decides to come back with one of her purges. And if she does, I swear I’ll strangle you!”

  Megan, who had experienced Mrs. Donovan’s purges herself, giggled at the image of her lordly guardian being forced to swallow a sickening draught while Mrs. Donovan looked on. Justin glared at her, then grinned reluctantly. Her laugh was infectious.

  “Get out of here!” he ordered, standing up. Megan, still chuckling, went to the door. “And for God’s sake, don’t let anyone see you!”

  “I won’t,” she promised, smiling at him over her shoulder. Then, with one hand on the knob, she turned back to face him, saying, “I didn’t mean it, you know!”

  “Mean what?” Justin asked.

  “I don’t hate you, my lord,” she said softly, and before Justin could reply she whisked herself away.

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