Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

Clenching his teeth, he resumed his pacing. Ten more minutes—he would give her ten more minutes. If no light had appeared by then, he would take matters into his own hands.

Where they should have been in the first place.

Pebbles crunched beneath his boots as he descended the terrace stairs and began walking along the graveled path in search of a better angle of view to Anna’s bedchamber. Shadows swirled through the bushes, and a sudden gust ruffled the knife-edged holly leaves, hiding the west wing for a fleeting interlude.

Ducking low, Devlin shouldered his way through the prickly hedge and once again lifted his gaze.

A flame—faint but unmistakable—finally glimmered behind the glass.

Relief pulsed through him, followed by a spurt of anger. He stood for a long moment, staring at the light while he fought to bring his emotions under control.

When at last, the pounding of his heart had subsided back to its normal beat, Devlin returned to the path and headed back for the terrace.

She had better have a good explanation for tying his insides into knots. But much as he wished to hear it now, it would have to wait until morning.

Falling, falling, falling…

Stifling a cry, Anna sat bolt upright in bed. It took several rat-a-tat thumps of her racing heart for the dizzy, disoriented feeling to subside. A dream—it was just a bad dream, she realized. Her toes were snug beneath an eiderdown coverlet, not sliding off a sliver of slippery stone.

She blew out a sigh and slumped back against the pillows, reveling in the welcoming softness and warmth. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a shiver tiptoe down her spine. The inch-by-inch traverse along the ledge had been a nightmare ordeal, with every tiny step seeming to take an eternity.

A gust slapped against the windowpanes, provoking a rueful smile. Swashbuckling exploits seemed much easier to perform on paper.

Her throat dry as dust from her fitful sleep, Anna threw off the covers and padded over to the washstand to fetch a glass of water. Too restless to return to bed, she curled up on the window seat and gazed out at the silvery moonlight playing over the dark silhouettes of the shrubbery.

From this perspective, she mused, the scene had a cozy feel to it. The clouds were clearing, and with the wind dying down to a gentle breeze, a peaceful stillness was settling over the grounds…

A movement within the leafy shadows of the boxwood hedge suddenly caught her eye. Anna wiped the mist from the glass and leaned in for a closer look.

One…two—no, three—figures materialized from the gloom and hurriedly crossed an open swath of lawn to take shelter beneath a large oak tree not far from her window.

Anna quickly shifted on the seat to keep them in view.

One of the men she recognized. The untamed shock of reddish-gold hair made Lord McClellan hard to miss. The others were too well-swathed in broadbrimmed hats and dark scarves to make out their features. Their gestures, however, were clear enough in the dappled light—they seemed to be arguing with the baron, and quite heatedly.

Lying low on the cushions, she reached for the latch and cracked open the casement.

No luck. The voices were too low to carry through the whispery night sounds.

Pressing closer to the panes, Anna kept her eyes on McClellan, who was becoming more and more animated. A clandestine meeting in the dead of night could have no explanation, save for one.

The baron was up to no good.

Her pulse began to pound. Was she watching the conspiracy against Prince Gunther in action?

The answer came quickly enough—McClellan’s two companions each reached within the folds of his overcoat and reluctantly handed over a weapon.

Two muskets—no, two rifles! She recognized the distinctive silhouette of the short barrel as McClellan slung them over his shoulder.

With a curt wave, the baron dismissed the men, who slunk away into the darkness. He watched them go, his profile stony and expressionless, mirroring the distant granite outcroppings dotting the moors.

A very hard man, thought Anna, feeling her insides clench. And his fiery passions made him a very dangerous one to cross.

As if sensing her presence, McClellan suddenly turned to stare up at the castle.

She ducked beneath the casement, telling herself that his hawkish gaze couldn’t possibly penetrate brass and stone. But much as she wished to slither down to the carpet, she waited for several moments and then ventured another peek. Devlin would want to know every detail, and she did not want to disappoint him.

The baron had already started walking—she could just make out the gleam of his fair hair and swirl of his coat around his boots as he took the stairs to the side entrance two at a time.