“How dare you!” She struggled against the ties.
Kiernan responded by winding the two ends of the twine around the bedpost and finishing off with another knot. Phoebe stared, dumbfounded as he stared back, blue eyes startlingly dark, and chest lifting and falling with each heavy breath he took. His gaze dropped to her breasts, inches from his face.
She flushed. "You can't," she began, but he shoved away from her and strode to the door.
“In a few minutes, Mather will be outside your door,” he said without looking back, then slammed the door as he left.
CHAPTER FIVE
Phoebe shifted against the bed pillows and glanced at the mantle clock. Ten minutes before six. Her gaze fell to the low burning embers in the hearth. Morning was upon them and the commotion of the earlier hours had long since died. Yet, as Kiernan MacGregor promised, Mather stood outside her door. Mather had shown the good sense to untie her before positioning himself as guard. Her first thought had been that Kiernan regretted his rash outburst of temper, but Mather’s, “You ought not to have ignored his commands, Miss,” did away with any notion that his master had enough sense to comprehend his sin.
A perfunctory knock sounded on the door, then it opened and the object of her anger filled the doorway. Phoebe straightened.
“My one burning question, Heddy,” he said, closing the door as he stepped inside—she noted Mather no longer stood outside the door—“is why you were following Alan Hay?”
“That offense didn't warrant you tying me up as if I was the criminal,” she retorted.
Kiernan snorted. “I would have done far worse if you were a criminal.” He strode to the chair to the right of her bed and sat down. “Answer the question.”
“If I answer incorrectly, will you tie me up again?”
“I might.”
Phoebe forced herself to relax against the pillows and raised a brow. “A simple case of ennui.”
He blinked, and Phoebe feared she had earned another trussing up, then his expression grew speculative. The look abruptly disappeared and he settled into a corner of his chair.
He draped an arm over the chair’s back and drawled, “Ennui, you say?”
Despite his lazy expression, Phoebe was startled by the decided lack of interest in his voice. “Yes,” she replied.
He gave a single nod. “Your quest for adventure nearly got you killed, my dear.”
“It was an exciting adventure,” she rejoined in a bright voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Indeed.”
“Indeed,” she emphasized.
“I am pleased,” Kiernan said.
Phoebe frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“This fine bit of coquettish flirting.”
She stiffened. He was right, which made the analysis all the worse. “This isn't an evening ball,” she snapped.
“And I am not an earl.”
“You could be a merchant—or a farmer—for all I care." Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "Who are you? You keep company with Lord Stoneleigh, which means you're not lowborn, and the villagers here look to you for leadership. You are no merchant—or a farmer, for that matter."
He laughed. "If I was a merchant, would my money be enough for you, or is a title required?"
She forced her temper back. "Sir, I understand you believe I am Hester—”
He coughed as if to clear his throat.
Phoebe crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I understand you believe I am Hester and that you're doing your friend a service.”
“Heddy.” He leaned forward and reached for the hand she had stuffed beneath her arm.
Phoebe stiffened, but he pried the hand free and lifted it to his lips. His mouth against her hand caused her pulse to jump and warmth spread up her cheeks. His eyes registered curiosity, but he released her hand and reclined in his chair.
“Forgive me for laughing,” he said.
“I can forgive the mistaken identity—as inconvenient as it is—but tying me up goes beyond the pale.”
“I'm pleased to have your forgiveness, regardless of the reason.”
“When this escapade is finished, you will find yourself at a disadvantage.”
“Heddy,” he said with resignation, “I find myself at a disadvantage now.”
She gave him a dry look. “I doubt that. When do you plan on sending word to the authorities of the murder plot against the duchess—or have you already done so?”
“No need to concern yourself with that.”
"But—my God, you don't intend to report them. You will stand idly by while a murder is planned and executed?”
“What is one murder in exchange for fifteen thousand?" he replied. "Or do fifteen thousand Highlanders hold less value to you than a single noblewoman?” He paused. "Perhaps, the gratitude of the duchess' male relatives interests you more?”
Phoebe shot to her feet. “Even Heddy wouldn't lower herself to such debased actions.”
“Lower herself?” Kiernan laughed, although the sound held none of his characteristic humor. “Heddy, I have seen—”