It was a pleasantly large room, befitting, she supposed, the heir to the family title. An expanse of windows across one wall looked out over the back garden. Dark green velvet drapes decorated the windows, drawn back with ties to let in the last faint glow of daylight.
A large bed dominated the room. Four dark walnut posts supported a high tester the same dark green velvet of the draperies, and the wide, thick mattress was covered with a heavy gold-and-green-patterned brocade bedspread. The rest of the furniture was also black walnut, massive, but with clean, elegantly simple lines. A leather chair and hassock stood next to a standing lamp, a small table beside them, piled high with books. It was a comfortable-looking place, with jumbled bookshelves and odd masculine bits and pieces of things stacked in corners and on shelves—an old cricket bat, a fishing rod propped in one corner, a flat dish in which lay a hodgepodge of coins and keys and an old, dented metal pocket watch.
Megan’s eyes went first to the bed. It was, after all, impossible to miss. She thought of Theo lying in it at night, and an unexpected heat curled through her abdomen. Telling herself not to be foolish, she walked forward into the room. She made a quick circuit of the chamber, noting the odd foreign-looking piece here and there. A small jade statue sat on his dresser, and an oddly twisted walking stick leaned against the walnut wardrobe. A straw mask of a demonic creature hung on the wall, along with a graceful watercolor of a white heron picking its way through bamboo plants.
She saw nothing that reminded her of any of the objects they had seen at the Cavendish the day before, nor did she spot any pendant. But, then, she had not really expected Theo to have left it sitting out in plain sight.
She would have to look inside the drawers and chests and compartments, something that went against her grain. Steeling herself to snoop, she turned first to the small desk.
It did not take long to check through all the drawers, finding little except pen nibs, papers, pencil stubs and the like. She turned to go to the large chest that lay at the foot of the bed. It was intriguingly carved with the figures of exotic animals, and it looked like the sort of place where one could stash all sorts of items.
Megan went down on one knee before the chest and placed her hands on its rim, starting to lift it. Suddenly, behind her, there was a loud metallic groan, as of hinges moving. Megan jumped, the lid of the chest slipping from her hand and crashing back down, and whirled around.
Theo Moreland was standing in the doorway of his room, looking at her.
CHAPTER 11
Megan jumped to her feet. She could feel the blood flooding her face in embarrassment, and she clasped her hands together in front of her, unable to speak.
“Miss Henderson, what a surprise,” Theo said calmly. “I had been told you were sick, but when I came up to see how you were feeling, I found your room empty. And this door, which I had left open, was closed.”
He paused. Megan cast about wildly for something she could say to explain herself, but her mind was a blank. What could possibly excuse her being in his room, snooping into his things?
When she said nothing, he smiled faintly. “Cat got your tongue?”
Theo strolled into the room, closing the door behind him. “This is indeed an unusual moment. I can only assume that, feeling ill, you must have been searching for a headache powder. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I fear that I have no such remedies. I rarely get headaches.”
“Theo—I mean, Mr. Mor—Lord Raine—” Megan stumbled over the words.
His smile broadened into a grin. “You are quite alluring when you’re flustered, Miss Henderson—or shall I call you Megan? I think we could dispense with the formalities, don’t you, seeing as how we are standing in my bedchamber?”
“I—I can explain….”
“Can you?” His eyes danced. “I would truly enjoying hearing it.”
Megan’s eyes flashed. “All right. I cannot explain it. You know I cannot.”
“Well, a mystery is better than a lie,” Theo mused.
He strolled over and stood looking down at her. He was too close, but Megan stubbornly refused to back away from him. It would seem too much like cowardice. Instead, she tilted her head back and looked up at him, defiance in every line of her face and posture.
“I am left to wonder…” he said as he reached out to trace the line of Megan’s jaw with his thumb. “What reason would there be for a woman to enter a man’s bedroom?”
Megan could feel his touch all through her as he moved his thumb along her jaw and up onto her cheek. She could not hold back a quiver of response.
“There are doubtless prosaic sorts who would assume that you had come in here to steal something from me. In that case, I suppose I should search you.” His eyes swept down her body, lingering on her breasts. “You might have something concealed about your person.”
He stroked his thumb across Megan’s full lower lip. Her eyes fluttered closed as a damp heat blossomed between her legs. Theo, watching her, sucked in his breath sharply at the obvious stamp of desire on her face. His hands came up to cup her face.
“I prefer to think ’tis something else that brought you here,” he went on in a husky voice, his breath sharper and faster now. He bent and pressed his lips against hers, softly tasting, nibbling, teasing at her lush mouth.
Megan shuddered and let out a quiet, involuntary noise, her hands coming up to clutch at the lapels of his coat. His arms went around her, pressing her into him so hard she could scarcely breathe—if, indeed, his kiss had not already taken her breath away.
She trembled, a hot, fluid ache growing within her, spreading and filling her, as his kiss deepened, the testing turning hungry and demanding. Desire surged in him, and Megan could feel it in the tightening of his arms, the insistent pressure of his flesh against her, the sudden, uneven rasp of his breath.
“Megan…” Her name was part sigh, part groan in his mouth, as he tore his lips away from hers and kissed his way across her face to nibble at her earlobe.
His hand caressed her hair, fumbling at the pins that held it, then sinking into the springing mass. His fingers twined through her curls, popping loose all the last restraining pins, so that her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. The warm red-brown curls were as soft as silk, tugging at his calloused hand, wrapping around his fingers. He clenched his hand in the lush strands, as he had been aching to do for so many days now.
Desire thundered in his head, drowning out all other sounds, all other thoughts. The doubts he held about her, the questions he had asked himself, all fell away, thrust aside in a passion that made any other thought unimportant.
Theo’s hands slid over her, caressing Megan through the barrier of her clothes. Her breasts were soft and yielding beneath his hands, her body warmly inviting. He yearned to feel the texture of her skin under the clothes, to taste her heat and sweetness.