Read Online Scandal in Scotland by Karen Hawkins - Free Book Online
Authors: Karen Hawkins
Ads: Link
just the trunk.”
He went to the dresser, and methodically removed each drawer, looking under and behind them as well as inside.
“You’re wasting your time, Hurst.”
He ignored her, searching the entire room before finally coming to stand before her with a frown.
While he’d been busy, so had she. Behind her skirts, she’d used her one booted heel to press hard against the portmanteau. It had shifted a tiny bit, then slid out of sight.
She shot a glance at the door. What if Miss Challoner arrived now? Both of them were intent on getting the onyx box. She had to get William out of here as soon as possible. Somehow, some way, she had to. “As you have seen for yourself, the artifact is gone.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels as if readying himself for a gale. “I know you, Marcail Beauchamp, and I know you are lying.”
The quiet, certain way he spoke gave her pause. She regarded him from beneath her lashes, annoyed by how he so easily dominated the room. He was so large and so present .
His gaze suddenly narrowed. “Stand.”
She gripped the bedclothes on each side. “William, I don’t—”
“Get up now .”
“Why? You can see that I’m—”
“If you don’t stand up I shall lift you—and there will be a price to pay.”
She was so damned frustrated with being ordered about by everyone! The unknown blackmailer, the mysterious Miss Challoner, and now William. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am staying right where I am. You forced your way in here, tossed me about like a rag doll, threw all of my clothing upon the floor and stepped on it with your nasty boots, and now you think you can tell me what to do? I’m done with having no say in the matter. You can see that I don’t have the artifact so there’s nothing more to be said.” She lifted her chin.
He watched her with a deadly calm. “Don’t push me.”
Her temper hot, she said haughtily, “Didn’t you hear me? There is no reason for you to stay. You will leave now.”
To her surprise and unease, he turned and grasped the chair she’d been sitting in earlier, and placed it beside the bed. He sat in it and gave it a not very gentle shake. “Seems firm enough.”
“Firm enough for what?”
“For this.” With that, he leaned forward and grasped her wrist. With a hard yank, he pulled her off the bed and toward him.
She wore only one boot and that one unlaced. She tried to keep her one shoe on, but as he propelled her forward, she stepped on her own lace, tripped, and fell toward him.
His other hand shot out as quickly as a snake, and he caught her easily, pulling her across his lap, facedown, her hair spilling over her so that her vision was obscured. In that instant, she knew what he intended to do and her hands went to cover her bottom, but he was too quick. He caught her wrists, gathered them in his hand, and easily held them to one side. “Oh no, my little liar. There is no getting out of this. You’ve deserved to be spanked since I first met you, and now I shall finally have my wish.”
A letter from Michael Hurst to his brother William from old Alexandria .
While looking among some ancient texts located in the private library of a sulfi with whom she’s become very familiar, Miss Smythe-Haughton found something very interesting last night. She has a tendency to become a “favorite” of men of power. While it has opened some doors, it is most annoying.
My assistant seems to think she’s found a reference to an amulet that might be the Hurst Amulet. If she’s right, it could mean that I’ve been looking for the blasted thing in the wrong country. Perhaps even the wrong continent.
It is very exasperating to expend so much effort trying to find something and then be told bluntly that you were “wrong, wrong, wrong.” Why do I put up with that woman?
C HAPTER 6
F or a moment, Marcail tried to catch her breath, intensely embarrassed by the way she’d
He went to the dresser, and methodically removed each drawer, looking under and behind them as well as inside.
“You’re wasting your time, Hurst.”
He ignored her, searching the entire room before finally coming to stand before her with a frown.
While he’d been busy, so had she. Behind her skirts, she’d used her one booted heel to press hard against the portmanteau. It had shifted a tiny bit, then slid out of sight.
She shot a glance at the door. What if Miss Challoner arrived now? Both of them were intent on getting the onyx box. She had to get William out of here as soon as possible. Somehow, some way, she had to. “As you have seen for yourself, the artifact is gone.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels as if readying himself for a gale. “I know you, Marcail Beauchamp, and I know you are lying.”
The quiet, certain way he spoke gave her pause. She regarded him from beneath her lashes, annoyed by how he so easily dominated the room. He was so large and so present .
His gaze suddenly narrowed. “Stand.”
She gripped the bedclothes on each side. “William, I don’t—”
“Get up now .”
“Why? You can see that I’m—”
“If you don’t stand up I shall lift you—and there will be a price to pay.”
She was so damned frustrated with being ordered about by everyone! The unknown blackmailer, the mysterious Miss Challoner, and now William. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am staying right where I am. You forced your way in here, tossed me about like a rag doll, threw all of my clothing upon the floor and stepped on it with your nasty boots, and now you think you can tell me what to do? I’m done with having no say in the matter. You can see that I don’t have the artifact so there’s nothing more to be said.” She lifted her chin.
He watched her with a deadly calm. “Don’t push me.”
Her temper hot, she said haughtily, “Didn’t you hear me? There is no reason for you to stay. You will leave now.”
To her surprise and unease, he turned and grasped the chair she’d been sitting in earlier, and placed it beside the bed. He sat in it and gave it a not very gentle shake. “Seems firm enough.”
“Firm enough for what?”
“For this.” With that, he leaned forward and grasped her wrist. With a hard yank, he pulled her off the bed and toward him.
She wore only one boot and that one unlaced. She tried to keep her one shoe on, but as he propelled her forward, she stepped on her own lace, tripped, and fell toward him.
His other hand shot out as quickly as a snake, and he caught her easily, pulling her across his lap, facedown, her hair spilling over her so that her vision was obscured. In that instant, she knew what he intended to do and her hands went to cover her bottom, but he was too quick. He caught her wrists, gathered them in his hand, and easily held them to one side. “Oh no, my little liar. There is no getting out of this. You’ve deserved to be spanked since I first met you, and now I shall finally have my wish.”
A letter from Michael Hurst to his brother William from old Alexandria .
While looking among some ancient texts located in the private library of a sulfi with whom she’s become very familiar, Miss Smythe-Haughton found something very interesting last night. She has a tendency to become a “favorite” of men of power. While it has opened some doors, it is most annoying.
My assistant seems to think she’s found a reference to an amulet that might be the Hurst Amulet. If she’s right, it could mean that I’ve been looking for the blasted thing in the wrong country. Perhaps even the wrong continent.
It is very exasperating to expend so much effort trying to find something and then be told bluntly that you were “wrong, wrong, wrong.” Why do I put up with that woman?
C HAPTER 6
F or a moment, Marcail tried to catch her breath, intensely embarrassed by the way she’d
Similar Books
