Karen Robards - Forbidden Love

Shocking! And if it were to become known, there would be no end of scandal. It was time his ward was broken to bridle. She had been allowed to run wild for too long. She must learn that his hands held the reins. Of course, the servants had no business carrying on in such a fashion in his house, but it wasn't their fault, not really. Ordinarily, it never would have occurred to them to behave in such a way. Oh, no, his little witch of a ward had cozened them into it, and it was she who must bear the full weight of his wrath.

When he joined her in the library, as he would do presently, he was much inclined to dispense with talking altogether and lay his riding crop about her backside. Perhaps that was what she needed to make her behave as a lady should.

There was a discreet tap at the door. "Come in!" Justin called, rightly supposing it to be Donovan with his supper tray. It was.

Donovan placed the tray on a small table near the bed. The man's movements were so quiet that they served as a silent reproach to Justin's bad temper. He was tempted to assure Donovan that he did not, after all, hold him or his wife responsible for the events of the evening. But then he decided to hold his peace until morning; it would do the staff no harm to reflect on their transgressions for what was left of the night.

After casting several unhappy looks at his master, Donovan finally tiptoed from the room resumed the business of getting clean. Then he lay back and closed his eyes. He heard the door click open again. Donovan, he thought, not bothering to open his eyes. The man had forgotten something or come back with Justin further apologies across carpet and really, heard the so pad of feet across the man's attempts at being quiet were more annoying than anything else.

"Donovan…" Justin opened his eyes wearily.

What he saw caused him to sit bolt upright in the tub with a suddenness that set the water to sloshing. Then, remembering his nakedness, he sank down again, cursing inwardly at the absurdly small tub which provided very little in the way of cover. He could feel his face and neck growing hot with a combination of outrage, anger, and yes, hang it, embarrassment. Because instead of finding Donovan, he found himself looking into a pair violet eyes. Beautiful eyes, but far from friendly.

"I want to talk to you!"

She was standing perhaps some five feet away, near the end of his bed. Her arms were crossed over her breasts and her voice was truculent. In truth, she sounded very much more self-assured than she felt. Megan had never seen a man in such a state of undress, and she found the sight oddly unnerving. But having gone this far, she was resolved not to be routed until she had had her say, and it was no part of her plan to let him get the upper hand, as he inevitably must if she revealed her ridiculous, attack of shyness by blushing, or leaving the room, or doing any of the hundred and one other things that young ladies were popularly supposed to do when confronted with a naked man.

Her guardian was staring at her, a dumbfounded expression on his face, which she noticed with some surprise was much more attractive-and younger-than she remembered it. As she returned his stare with a haughty look of her own, she became aware of the hot flush in his naturally swarthy face. His lordship was every bit as embarrassed as she was! The realization eased her own tension a little. Perhaps bearding the lion in his den had not been such an ill-considered idea after all! Sheer temper had driven her to it; she felt guilty that her friends should be made to suffer because of her selfish desire to have a party. But she had never had one before-and where was the harm? Besides, who could have foretold that her guardian, the inaccessible Earl, would come after her, in person, and burst in upon what had promised to be no more than an evening of innocent fun.

"May I ask what you think you're doing in here?" His voice, now that he had recovered the use of it, was positively arctic.

Megan eyed him in a calculating manner, no longer put out by his nakedness. She was beginning to perceive that she had gained an unlooked-for advantage by bursting in on him in such an unconventional way. He was clearly off-balance, and Megan suspected that it wasn't a condition that afflicted him often.

"I told you, I wanted to talk to you," she replied with an insouciance that was far from feeling, and sat herself down on the corner of his bed as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Deliberately she let her eyes run over him, surprised at such muscular breadth of shoulders and smooth, bronzed skin in someone she had long considered an old man. He looked ridiculous sitting all scrunched up in that tiny tub, his face beet-red under the two days' growth of stubbly black beard. His eyes, a curious tawny gold color, regarded her with sheer amazement; then the look became a frown.

"You will please me by taking yourself out of this chamber, and waiting for me in the library, as I originally instructed!"

The iciness of his tone was at variance with the glint in his eyes. Megan looked at him meditatively, deciding that strong men must tremble and scurry to do his bidding when he spoke to them like that. Well, her guardian had yet to learn that she was made of sterner stuff. She had embarked on this mission, and she would see it through.

"But I don't particularly want to please you, my lord," she remarked, her eyes unwavering as they met his fierce gaze.

For a moment, he looked as if he couldn't believe his ears, and then, as his hands tightened on the rim of the tub, she was half afraid that he meant to rise and enforce his order physically. But concern for her modesty won out, as she decided it would; his sense of propriety made him her prisoner as surely as if she had somehow managed to chain him hand and foot.

"Do you realize, you impudent girl, just what you're inviting by coming into a gentleman's bedchamber like this?" he demanded.

Megan considered him thoughtfully, her head cocked to one side like an inquisitive bird's. He looked furious, and dangerous, and Megan supposed she should be frightened to death of him. After all, as her guardian, he stood in place of her father, and had absolute authority over her. Yet, she was not afraid.

"Of course not, my lord. As a gently brought-up young lady, how should I?" she answered demurely, a dimple quivering roguishly in her cheek. Her answer surprised him, she could see; for just a minute, she thought she glimpsed the spark of humor in his eyes. Then his mouth tightened ominously, and she knew he was reminding himself that she was his ward and not just any young girl.

"If I were you, Miss, I would take myself out of this chamber this very instant. I promise you, you'll be very, very sorry if you don't."

There was no mistaking the threat under the cloak of politeness. Megan tilted her chin at him.

"Then I will just have to be sorry, won't I? Because I am not leaving until I've said what I came in here to say."

"Say it, then, and be damned," Justin snapped, clearly at the end of his patience. He glowered at her from the scant protection of the small tub. His knees rose above the water and Megan noticed that they were taut with muscle and covered with fine dark hair. His chest was covered with hair, too, in a wide V-shape that was much thicker and softer looking than the hair on his legs. The curling mat was every bit as dark as the hair on his head, which was just a shade less black than her own. But its texture was much coarser, and it waved rather than curled. At the moment, tiny droplets of water beaded it like diamonds.

"Well?" he barked. Megan jumped guiltily, realizing that he was waiting for her to state her reason for being in his bedroom.

"I won't have you blaming Donovan and Mrs. Donovan and the others for what happened tonight. It was my fault entirely." Her former belligerence had returned in full force as she recalled the purpose behind her unconventional behavior.