Sally MacKenzie Bundle (114 page)

“What…?”

“Your company has arrived.” Robbie grabbed her shoulders, turned her, and pushed her toward the bed. “Get your nightgown on.”

Damn. Bloody hell. Lizzie was not moving quickly enough. And she was clearly half-seas over. Did she grasp the seriousness of the situation? No. She was sitting on her bed, staring at him. Staring at a particular part of him.

At least she had stopped grabbing him.

More banging. Whoever was hitting the window might manage to break it if Lizzie didn’t get her nightgown on soon.

He snuffed out the candle, leaving the room lit only by the banked fire in the hearth. Perhaps darkness would help her concentrate on the matter at hand.

“Put on your nightgown.”

“Hmm?”

“Lizzie, you need to put on your nightgown
now.
You have to answer the door.” He reached to help her—and encountered a soft breast.

“Mmm.”

Good God, the girl was purring. If only…No, he wouldn’t think of it. It was impossible. Completely im—

“Lizzie!” He tried to keep his voice down, though with all the door and window pounding, he could have shouted and not been heard over the din. “Lizzie—oh, no!”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her fingers away from where they had wandered.

“Did I hurt you? You’re swollen again.”

“Lizzie, just put your nightgown on and get the door. Please?”

She huffed and the small puff of air tickled over his stomach.

“All right. Will you touch me again after they are all gone? It felt so good.”

Damn. He balled his hands into fists. He really would like to hit something. He tried to keep his voice calm.

“We’ll see. Now be a good girl and put on your nightgown.” Louder banging on the door and some muffled shouts. At least James wasn’t here; he was at Alvord, awaiting the birth of his second child. “Hurry, the door first. Try to look as if you’ve just woken up. And remember, I’m not here.”

“Not here. Right.”

He watched her take her first steps toward the door, then jumped onto the bed, pulling the curtains closed.

Betty, Lizzie’s maid, must sleep like the dead, he
thought. Hell, she must
be
dead if this racket hadn’t woken her. Of course, that was assuming she was in her bed at all. More likely she was with his valet somewhere. It was no secret those two would like to make a match of it. Collins had certainly hinted about it enough. Robbie was beginning to fear for his life when the man shaved him each morning.

Betty and Collins would be merry as grigs if Robbie married Lizzie. Well, he would be, too, but it would never happen. He would never curse Lizzie with a half-man like himself. He sighed. When he had seen her, standing naked in front of her mirror, the candlelight making her skin glow, her hand sliding down her curves to exactly the place he most wanted to be…

He buried his face in the pillow. A mistake. He inhaled her scent and grew even harder.

He stifled a moan.

The door swung open. Light and the babble of voices, some shouting flooded the room. God, only a miracle would keep him from detection.

He prayed for a miracle.

“He’s here, isn’t he? I know he’s here.” Lady Felicity Brookton, clad in a pistachio-colored dressing-gown, pushed Lizzie aside and stepped into her room, holding a candle high. “Where are you hiding him?”

“Um.” Lizzie blinked, staring out her door. Half the house party had assembled in the corridor.

“Someone is knocking at the window.” Lady Caroline, the daughter of the Earl of Dunlee, maneuvered her ample bulk across the room and opened the curtains. “Oh, look! It’s Lord Peter.”

“Let him in.” Lady Felicity peered inside Lizzie’s wardrobe.

“Um.” Lizzie wished she could think. That last glass of ratafia had definitely been ill-advised. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton wool.

She couldn’t let them find Robbie: he didn’t want to be found. She watched Lady Felicity light all the available candles. How was she going to stop them? There were only so many places to look.

Lord Peter, dressed in his shirt sleeves and pantaloons, climbed in the window. “Saw him vault in here.” He chuckled. “Hard to miss his lily-white as—” Lord Peter coughed. “Ankles. His lily-white ankles. Hard to miss them in the dark.”

“So where is he, Lady Elizabeth?” Lady Felicity glared at her.

“Um, he who?”

“Lord Westbrooke, of course. Didn’t he just climb in your window?”

“Uh…” Lizzie’s mind went blank.

“Lady Felicity, surely you cannot be suggesting that Lord Westbrooke would behave in such an inappropriate manner?”

Lizzie turned to see Lady Beatrice, her nominal chaperone for the Season. Thank God! Lady Bea would deal with this mess in short order.

Lady Felicity lifted her chin. “I only know what I saw.”

Lady Bea lifted an eyebrow. “And what exactly did you see, miss?”

“I saw Lord Westbrooke leap naked out the window.”

“I thought you said he came
in
the window.”

“Not this window.”

“Ah, the window in your room then? Correct me if I am wrong, miss, but any man exiting your window would end as a rather unsightly corpse on the terrace. Or have you changed rooms recently? I thought
your bedchamber was just a few doors down the hall from mine on the other side of the corridor.”

Lady Felicity turned red. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words issued forth.

“Let’s look in the bed, Felicity.” Lord Peter left the window and reached for the bed curtains. “I’ll wager Westbrooke is hiding between the sheets.”

“Lord Peter!”

Everyone turned to stare at the petite woman who’d managed to push to the fore of the crowd. The Duchess of Hartford—Lady Charlotte Wickford before her marriage to the elderly duke—was not someone Lizzie would ever have imagined coming to her rescue. Charlotte hated her. Well, she really hated James, but James spent most of his time in Kent these days. Lizzie was a much more convenient target.

“What, your grace?” Lord Peter stood back, gesturing to the bed curtains. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Charlotte stared at him. He flushed and dropped his arm.

“If you won’t do it, I will.” Felicity grabbed a handful of cloth.

“Lady Felicity.” Charlotte’s tone stopped Felicity’s hand before it had moved an inch. “Surely you do not mean to imply that Lady Elizabeth would entertain a man in her bedroom?”

Felicity looked at Lizzie’s small bosom. Lizzie crossed her arms over it.

“Entertain? No, however—”

“However, if Lord Westbrooke should be so bold as to visit Lady Elizabeth in her room at night—if he were found in her bed—I assume he would do the gentlemanly thing and offer for her.” Charlotte shrugged. “Her brother, the duke, would insist, wouldn’t you say?”

Felicity paused, an arrested expression on her face.

“In fact, I imagine if Lord Westbrooke were indeed hiding behind those bed curtains, he’d be wed to Lady Elizabeth before the week was out.” Charlotte smiled. “I’m certain you would want to dance at that wedding, hmm, Lady Felicity?”

Lady Felicity’s hand fell to her side. “Ah, yes. You’re right. Of course. Lord Westbrooke would never invade Lady Elizabeth’s room. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I know what you were thinking. You told me—”

“Lord Peter!”

Lord Peter frowned and turned to Charlotte.

“I believe we intrude on Lady Elizabeth’s privacy.” Charlotte smiled up at him as she ran her fingers over his shirt cuff. “It’s time you went to…bed, don’t you think?”

It was Lord Peter’s turn to have an arrested expression. He stared down at Charlotte for a moment and then grinned.

“I believe you are correct, your grace.”

“Of course I am.” Charlotte glanced at Felicity. “I imagine you dreamt the event, Lady Felicity. Sometimes our dreams are so vivid, they appear real, do they not?”

Felicity tore her eyes off the bed curtains. “Yes. Yes, I’m certain you are right, your grace.” She glanced back at the bed. “Sometimes my dreams do seem real.”

“Exactly.” Charlotte moved toward the door, Lord Peter at her side. “So sorry to disturb you, Lady Elizabeth.” Her eyes drifted to the bed also. “I’m certain you are eager to get back to”—Charlotte smiled slightly—“sleep.” She inclined her head. “You have depths I never suspected.”

Lizzie watched the crowd disperse. Lady Beatrice
was the last to leave; she looked at the bed and raised her eyebrows.

“Anything you would like to tell me, Lizzie?”

Lizzie looked at the bed, too. “Um, no.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.” Lizzie nodded. She was definitely certain. She did not want to discuss the evening’s bizarre events with anyone. She was of half a mind that she, too, was the victim of a very vivid dream. “I’m a trifle out of curl. I think I will just go to bed.”

“I see.” Lady Beatrice addressed the bed in a very stern voice. “Well, I am more than certain the duke would eviscerate any man who played fast and loose with his sister’s reputation—or harmed her in
any
way.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Thank you. Good night.”

Lizzie ushered Lady Bea out the door and closed it firmly behind her. Then she sagged against the solid wooden surface, puffed out her cheeks, and eyed the bed.

Could
she have dreamt the entire sequence of events? Was it possible the evening was simply the product of overindulgence?

There was only one way to find out. She pushed away from the door and stepped toward the bed.

About the Author

A native Washingtonian, Sally MacKenzie still lives in suburban Maryland with her transplanted upstate New Yorker husband and four Washingtonian sons. She’s written federal regulations, school newsletters, auction programs, class plays, and swim league guidance, but it wasn’t until her nest started to empty that she tried her hand at romance. Her first novel, The Naked Duke, was released by Kensington Books in February 2005. She can be reached by email at [email protected] or by snail mail at P. O. Box 2453, Kensington, MD 20891. Please visit her home in cyberspace at www.sallymackenzie.net.

Praise for
The Naked Gentleman

“Hilarity reigns as a queen of love and laughter crafts another “naked” book designed to keep you smiling. This delicious romance blends MacKenzie’s hallmark humor with a cast of unforgettable characters.” —Kathe Robin,
Romantic Times

“What a great series! Funny, spicy, and romantic.” —Jane Bowers,
Romance Reviews Today

Praise for
The Naked Earl

“Naked, noble, and irresistible—who could resist one of Sally MacKenzie’s heroes?” —Eloisa James,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Providing plenty of heat and hilarity, MacKenzie has great fun shepherding this boisterous party toward its happy ending; readers will be glad they RSVPed.” —
Publishers Weekly

“The latest in MacKenzie’s delectably sensual
Naked
historical Regencies series has plenty of sexy sizzle and charming wit.” —
Booklist

Praise for
The Naked Marquis

“
The Naked Marquis
is an endearing confection of sweetness and sensuality, the romance equivalent of chocolate cake…every page is an irresistible delight!” —Lisa Kleypas,
New York Times
bestselling author

“With a delightfully quirky cast of characters and heated bedroom encounters, MacKenzie’s latest
Naked
novel delivers a humorous, sprightly romance.” —
Romantic Times

“
The Naked Marquis
is a delicious indulgence. Treat yourself!” —
Once Upon a Romance

Praise for
The Naked Duke

“MacKenzie sets a merry dance in motion in this enjoyable Regency romp.” —
Booklist

“This is a funny, delightful debut by a talented writer who knows how to blend passion, humor and the essence of the Regency period into a satisfying tale.” —
Romantic Times

“Debut author Sally MacKenzie has penned a marvelously witty novel…. Readers who enjoy a large dose of humor will love
The Naked Duke
. The characters are charming, and the pace is quick. It is the perfect book for a cozy winter retreat.” —
A Romance Review

EVER SO LIGHTLY

He silenced her with his fingertips. Lord Dawson removed his glove; his skin was warm and slightly rough as he stilled her lips and then slowly traced their outline.

What was he doing? Why did her lips feel suddenly swollen? Grace parted them slightly.

His lips touched hers as lightly as his fingers had. The briefest brush and then brush again…

Also by Sally MacKenzie

THE NAKED DUKE

THE NAKED MARQUIS

THE NAKED EARL

THE NAKED GENTLEMAN

“The Naked Laird”
(novella from LORDS OF DESIRE)

Published by Zebra Books

The Naked Baron

S
ALLY
M
AC
K
ENZIE