Sea of Fire by Carol Caldwell Page B

Margaret addressed the friar and advanced a few steps closer to the both of them alongside the bed. She placed her hands on her well-rounded hips and assumed an indignant stance as her ample breasts heaved. “It is my turn with this man. Be gone with you right now, or I’ll report you to the monastery.”
    “Wait,” he started to protest and understood it would do no good. Mary Margaret meant to discuss this peculiar situation she had found him in, and he had no choice but to allow Elizabeth to leave. Mary Margaret need not get involved in his suspicions about Elizabeth or the disappearance of his brother.
    Even as he thought about it, Elizabeth, with her hooded head down, as if in tremendous shame, grabbed her portmanteau from the floor near the foot of his bed and raced out the door to freedom.
    Mary Margaret waited until Elizabeth left before she spoke again. “Now tell me. Why was a friar in your bed?” Her dark brown eyes softened. She silently implored him.
    “I cannot answer that at this time. I ‘will explain all of this to you at a later date.” He moved from her to sit on the side of the bed. He was irritated as hell, but Mary Margaret was not to blame. He’d at least listen to her concerns. She deserved his attention.
    She sat next to him and reached for one of his hands.
    He’d allow her to hold it—a small comfort and consideration to her.
    “Why can’t you tell me now?” she prodded. “ ‘Tis awful to find the man you love in bed with another woman, I’m sure, but a man—a friar—is doubly painful for my spirits to bear.”
    “You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you all is not what it appears.” He briefly squeezed her hand and stood. “I must bathe and change.”
    “I’ll not leave until you explain.” She rose from the edge of the bed and stomped her foot to emphasize her words.
    Her dark eyes narrowed and her lips took on a firm line.
    “Don’t push me,” he sharply turned on her. “I said I’d explain when I can and not before. This conversation is over.”
    She appeared so angry that if it were possible, smoke would have escaped from her ears. She clutched her satchel tightly to her side. She was about to speak, paused and did so. “Don’t take too long. I may not be around to hear, when you finally explain.” She spun around so quickly, a lock from her dark hair tumbled out of place. With a haughty air, she left his town house.
    “Hell,” he muttered and started to strip off his clothes, when he was reminded his manservant was not around.
    He hadn’t known what to anticipate where Adam and Elizabeth were concerned. Consequently, he had given his servants some time off. He was glad he had. Not that any of his servants would have questioned a friar in his bedchamber. Still, there was no need for any speculation on their part—hell, look how Mary Margaret had reacted. The fewer people were involved, the better for all parties concerned.
    He raked his hair with both hands before he headed downstairs to bring up a bath for himself. Elizabeth had escaped him this time, but next time she wouldn’t be so lucky. She’d talk to him or ... He smiled to himself as thoughts of how he might coerce her into confession perked his spirits. With that, he jumped the last three steps of the stairs and proceeded to arrange his bath.
    * * * *
    Not until Elizabeth had reached Exchequer Street, four blocks from Dawson Street and the Traynor town house, did she slow her pace to consider what just happened. Mary Margaret, as Christian had addressed the woman, had unexpectedly stormed into the bedchamber. Her fortunate and timely arrival had spared her an inquisition and perhaps more.
    Never had she lain with a man so intimately. What was even more disgraceful was the fact that he had aroused emotions in her that she wasn’t supposed to experience— she was sure—with anyone, but her husband. Unfortunately, unusual circumstances and coincidence had forced them together. She knew she