Secrets to Seducing a Scot

TWELVE

As a chaperone, Quinny was about as useful as a bucket with a hole in the bottom. But Serena had no intention of spending the day alone with the indomitable Malcolm Slayter, so she went to kidnap Zoe. Zoe refused because she was scheduled to have a lesson with her French language master, a man on whom she had a hopeless crush. Only after Serena promised to accompany Zoe to the Saint Swithin’s Day Festival the next day did Zoe agree.

The young girl was intrigued by the lover’s corridor in Serena’s room, so the two of them went back to her room to see it.

“Ooh!” exclaimed Zoe. “This is amazing! How on earth did you find it?”

Serena rolled her eyes, and pointed to Malcolm. “He found it.”

Zoe blinked her widened eyes at him. “I’ve lived here nearly my whole life and never knew about this hidden room. How did you know it was here?”

Serena interrupted. “Perhaps he has intimate knowledge of such concealments. Ask him how many ladies’ bedchambers he’s infiltrated through such places.”

Malcolm snickered. “Yer friend is as curious as a cat in a room full of mouse holes. But she’ll no’ get the gossip she seeks from me. Tell her that my affairs are none of hers.”

Zoe seemed oblivious to their tense exchange. “Can I see where it leads?”

“It’s rather dirty in there, miss. The servants are on the way up to muck it out.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, seizing a candle.

“I do, miss,” he said, gently taking the candle from her hand. “Besides, the passage is fair bursting with rubbish.”

Serena whirled around. “You’ll have to get used to being treated that way, Zoe. That is, unless you complain to your father about him. Maybe then he’ll be discharged for good.”

Zoe sat upon Serena’s bed. “Could you see if there’s a passageway like that into my bedroom?”

“I will. Tomorrow.”

Two footmen came to the bedroom. Malcolm held a candle aloft and showed them into the dark corridor. Serena sat at her escritoire and watched as the two footmen began to cart away the crates and broken chairs that cluttered the secret passageway.

Zoe sat next to her, whispering something about how she would swoon with delight if her handsome French master came into her bedroom through such an opening. Serena only heard half of what Zoe was saying. Because at that moment, Malcolm Slayter took off his coat.

Never mind that no self-respecting gentleman would ever remove his coat in front of a lady he wasn’t related to. Never mind that his shirtsleeves weren’t voluminous, and they didn’t even go all the way down to his wrists. The sleeves of his fitted shirt, made of coarse linen, ended at his elbows.

Serena stared at him over her embroidery hoop. The sight of his bare forearms sent a current of eroticism through her. Slightly furred and knotted with muscle, they fascinated her. She had never seen such a large man in semi-undress. He walked into the corridor and carried out a wooden chest so heavy that it required two footmen to take it from his gloved hands. Serena couldn’t help but notice the swell of muscle at his shoulder and upper arms, stretching the rough-spun fabric. Definitely no London gentleman of her acquaintance looked like him. But then again, Malcolm Slayter was no gentleman. And they were far, far from London.

“You’re from the Highlands, are you not?” Serena asked.

His green eyes jumped to her face. “Aye.”

She bit her cheek. “I thought all Highlanders wore kilts.”

“Aye. That we do.”

“Why don’t you wear one then?”

He wiped his damp temple on his sleeve. “That, I’m afraid, is yer doing.”

“My doing?”

“Aye. I’m told that ladies … of the English persuasion … are too delicate to behold a man’s bare legs.”

“Who told you such a slanderous thing?”

He shrugged. “Common knowledge.”

Serena harrumphed. “Well, you needn’t put yourself out on my account. It takes a great deal more than a show of knees to offend someone like me.”

He nodded in appreciation. “Judging by our less-than-cordial meeting, I think I may have discovered everything that offends someone like ye.”

The words needled her. She didn’t want to be thought of as a harridan. Truth be told, Malcolm Slayter was the most interesting thing that had happened since she’d arrived in Scotland.

“Is there a Mrs. Slayter?”

“Aye.”

Her needle stilled. A sinking feeling went through her.

“That would have been my mum,” he continued.

She rolled her eyes, but the gesture was coupled by a feeling of hope.

“I meant, are you married?”

“I know what ye meant.”

But no explanation was forthcoming. There it was again, that impudence that challenged her authority over him. “Well?”

“That’s private.”

She laughed out loud. “You are standing in the middle of my bedroom in a state of undress intruding upon my every waking moment, and you’re bothered by an innocuous question like ‘Are you married?’” The irony of it made her laugh again.

He shook his head. “Yer father said ye don’t have to speak to me. Feel free to avail yerself of that freedom.”

Her laughs subsided to a chuckle. “Maybe I will.”

“Good.”

He turned to the last footman. “Please tell Mrs. Walker we’ve finished clearing this out.”

Zoe jumped off her chair. “Can I see where it leads now?”

He flicked a smile at the girl. “Aye.” His gaze swung over to Serena, challenge blazing in his eyes. “Ye can come, too. If ye dare.”

Serena was not about to let him call her a coward. She set down her embroidery hoop and stood up. But first, she grabbed a shawl and threw it over her head. Spiders …

She followed closely behind him as he held the candle aloft. The flame flickered across the walls, blinking light upon what was essentially a drafty, unplastered corridor. Exposed planks and white mortar lined the walls, and a faint musty smell pervaded the passageway. She couldn’t see herself sitting in this room for any length of time, let alone sleeping in it. He must be a brave soul indeed if he didn’t mind bedding here.

Involuntarily, she clutched the back of his shirt. It was warm with him, and it gave off a scent that was very pleasing to her … like skin warmed by sunshine. Her fingers bounced upon the hardness of his back, and the intimacy of it was intensely pleasurable.

At the opening, the corridor took an immediate left turn, and they followed it for a distance. Here, the spiderwebs were plentiful, and they formed a canopy over her head. She squeezed in closer to him, using him as a shield.

Finally, the corridor ended at a spot where light shone through a door-shaped crack in the moldy beams. A sweep of his candle revealed a hook. He put a finger through it and pulled.

Light burst in upon them from the opposite side. They now stood behind six shelves aching with books, and they could see over them into the room.

“It’s the library!” she breathed. “But I’ve never seen this doorway before.” She picked up one of the books and turned it over in her hands. “How does one get through these shelves?”

He looked all around. “There has to be a hinge …” He pushed against the frame of the bookshelf, and it swung forward. The three of them stepped through the opening and found themselves standing in Lord Askey’s library.

He swung into place the hinged door that doubled as the back panel of the oak bookshelves. Then he swung the hinged bookcase onto it. The doorway disappeared, leaving only what appeared to be a static bookshelf.

“Ingenious,” he muttered, lifting the real books off the shelf. “No one would have suspected a thing.”

“I wonder if Papa knows about this?” asked Zoe, pulling open the bookshelf-door. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell my friend Rebecca!”

“I must ask ye not to tell anyone outside this household about this hidden passageway,” said Malcolm gently. “I myself will show it to yer father and the ambassador. The fewer people that know, the safer Miss Marsh will be.”

Zoe smiled at him, her brown eyes turning their full allure his way. “If you insist.”

Malcolm wagged a warning finger at Serena. “And don’t ye be telling the world about it, either.”

Serena bristled at the change in his demeanor with her. It was bad enough that there was no one in the whole of Scotland she held in any confidence. Now she was forced into an adversarial relationship with a man she didn’t want to like … but did.

She adjusted her shawl around her shoulders and walked to the real door out of the library. “Get accustomed to stepping through that bookshelf to reach your bedchamber, for you won’t be going through my bedroom door.”