“There’s ink on your hand.”
Robert started. He hadn’t put his gloves back on after breakfast, and sure enough, there was a smear of dried black ink across his palm. His hand clenched to hide it. He waited, tense, for Cameron to say something else about the matter but was met only with silence.
Miss Hale’s room was first. They quickly rummaged through but found nothing of interest. Robert did come across a half-written letter to a friend, but if Miss Hale had any devious, criminal plans, she didn’t commit to them in writing.
She did, however, mention Ian Cameron no fewer than three times. She was obviously smitten.
Robert set the letter down and laughed slightly, remembering Miss Hale flittering about Cameron like an encouraging bird while the man remained as taciturn as ever.
“What is it?” Cameron was by the armoire, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He realized this was an invasion of privacy, and though these people weren’t as close to him as the servants whose rooms he’d already searched, it seemed unkind to discuss the letter. He’d only read it to make sure there was nothing pertinent in it. As he’d searched the room, Cameron’s horror at discovering Robert had gone through his things had been at the back of his mind the entire time.
He’d done his best to search quickly for the missing items without dwelling on anything else.
Of course, this brought the unwelcome realization that he wasn’t all that tempted to examine Miss Hale’s belongings in the first place. Cameron, on the other hand, was a mystery he’d very much like to unravel.
But there would be no unraveling. He had a feeling if he attempted to unravel Cameron, there would just be spikes underneath, waiting to cut him.
“Nothing,” he said. “We should continue to the next room.”
Miss Worthington’s room was right beside Miss Hale’s, so it was the logical place to go, though Robert found it difficult to suspect her of anything.
He was absentmindedly glancing under furniture when Cameron startled him.
“You don’t look like you expect to find anything.”
He sat back on his heels. “No. Miss Worthington doesn’t strike me as the type.”
“Because you like her?”
A beat of silence passed. “Well, yes, I suppose.” He did like Miss Worthington. He enjoyed talking to her—she was direct and practical and just a little bit wry, and she had nearly bested him at billiards, which was no easy feat. And it wasn’t as though she was difficult to look at—she was a very attractive woman.
That subtle little notch appeared between Cameron’s eyebrows, but when he spoke, his voice was flat. “That doesn’t mean she’s not a thief.”
“I suppose not.”
But they found nothing, as he’d suspected, and then they went to Mr. and Mrs. Worthington’s room. The couple had been given the largest and nicest bedchamber. A four-post bed with curtains covered in sprawling pink flowers took up the center of the room, and a rosewood washstand and armoire stood along the far wall.
Robert was striding toward the armoire when a sudden noise made him halt. “What was that?”
A feminine giggle drifted from down the corridor.
Damnation! Were they back already?
Footsteps approached, slowed, stopped. The door creaked as though a heavy weight was leaning against it, and Robert heard the unmistakable sound of a moan.
He stared at Cameron, wide-eyed. The other man was scanning the room. His eyes landed on the bed—or rather, the space underneath it. The only place where two adult men might actually have a chance of hiding.
Robert hesitated, and then the door began to open and instinct took over. He lunged for the bed, wiggling past the bed skirts until he thought he was concealed. But it wasn’t comfortable. Cameron, who’d sidled in from the other side, took up every spare ounce of space. His elbow dug painfully into Robert’s rib cage, and Robert couldn’t even move his legs without tangling them with Cameron’s. He could feel Cameron’s hot breath on his cheek.
And then the unexpected visitors tumbled in, and Robert wished he’d simply faced them, the consequences be damned. By the sounds of their voices, it was clearly Mr. and Mrs. Worthington and not someone conducting a scandalous liaison, which he supposed was some small thing to be grateful for, but the bed ropes creaked an inch or two overhead, and Robert realized they were not simply going to kiss for a little bit and then leave.
“You are ravenous, my dear,” Mrs. Worthington murmured.
Robert had the urge to cover his ears, but he didn’t think he had quite the range of motion required. It was dark underneath the bed, but he could see the glint of Cameron’s eyes, which looked every bit as wide and startled as his own.
“You tease me—revealing yourself in the stables—anyone could have seen.” He growled and then did something that caused his wife to yelp. A sound that quickly morphed to a sigh.
Oh, good God.
“The door is unlocked right now. Someone might come in and see us.”
“Would you like that, Mrs. W?”
Mrs. W?
Robert bit his tongue, but the end of a strangled laugh still emerged. Cameron slammed a hand down over Robert’s mouth, though it was probably unnecessary—the couple above them were completely oblivious to any signs of life.
“Oh dear. It would be so embarrassing, wouldn’t it? If someone walked in and saw us…and watched us.”
“Completely beyond the pale,” Mr. Worthington agreed. “Of course, they would be mesmerized by your titties, Mrs. W, so I couldn’t blame them.”
Cameron hadn’t removed his hand from Robert’s mouth, and he was forced to press down harder as another snort of laughter escaped. Robert was intensely aware of the other man’s body beside him, of the strength in that coiled form, the heat that blazed from his skin. He had the sudden desire to lick him, to trace a wet line along his palm. Or maybe he’d bite him instead—just hard enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain. He wondered how Cameron would react.
It was probably better not to find out.
Above them the mattress shifted, and the bed ropes began to creak in a suspicious rhythm.
“Mr. W, you devil!” Mrs. Worthington gasped. Robert heard the sharp sound of a slap, followed almost immediately by a masculine groan.
“You are so violent,” Mr. W lamented, though he didn’t sound displeased about the fact at all. “I should tie you to the bed for that.”
“Mmm…but then I couldn’t do this…”
Whatever she did made Worthington shout with (what Robert assumed was) excitement.
Robert, for his part, had never been more uncomfortable in his life. Laughter bubbled in his chest, and there was a sharp pain where Cameron’s elbow dug into ribs, and a slower, harder ache in his cock, caused entirely by the stoic man next to him and not the lusty encounter going on above him.
And then the couple became so exuberant that the bed rope just above Robert began to smack him in the forehead every few seconds.
Perfect.
He was going to be the first person in history to die of contusions from another couple’s vigorous lovemaking.
“Oh, Mr. W!”
The mattress finally stopped moving. Both of the bed’s occupants were gasping like they’d run a mile.
After a moment of quiet, feet padded over to the washstand, and Robert heard a splash of water. “We should get back,” Mrs. Worthington said. “We did leave rather hastily.”
Mr. Worthington laughed. “Indeed!”
The two shut the door behind them, happily oblivious to everything except each other. A beat of silence passed. Two. Cameron’s hand slipped from Robert’s mouth, and he immediately missed its warmth.
Robert tried to see Cameron’s expression in the dark but couldn’t make it out.
Finally, the laughter he’d tried to contain spilled out of him. His shoulders shook and his head fell forward onto Cameron’s upper arm, nose brushing the front of his coat, and still, he couldn’t stop.