Robert continued to run his fingers through her hair, spreading it across her shoulders. “I’ve always had a weakness for your beautiful hair.”

And I’ve always had a weakness for you. Moira smiled sleepily. “I’ll want to sleep here. I locked the door to my room.”

He kissed her nose and pulled the blankets up. “Sleep, Moira.” Then he tucked her close, her back to his chest. “I’ll keep watch while you do.”

Moira smiled and drifted off to sleep with Robert curled around her, his arm over her waist, his leg across hers.

CHAPTER 21

Letter from Robert Hurst to his brother Michael, who was being held by a sulfi in a foreign land.

William is on his way with the required ransom to win your freedom. The onyx box is a lovely artifact and reminds me of the times we used Mother’s empty jewelry box as our treasure chest when we played at being pirates.

I remember being very angry when one of you attempted to “steal” the treasure chest from me; even then I didn’t like it when something was taken from me . . .

Sir Lachlan awoke with a start in his firelit room, panting hard in the grip of a nightmare where the delicious Moira Hurst turned from a sweet temptress into a pistol-wielding goddess of fury.

Ross pressed a hand to where his heart hammered against his chest, wishing his head didn’t pound so as well. He’d drunk far too much port, egged on by that fool Hurst.

Ross was done with them both. In the morning, Moira and that fop of a husband would be gone, fake box in hand. Who would be smirking then?

Well before the Hursts were awake, he’d leave for his hunting just in case Moira had been right about her husband’s ability to spot a fake. Ross had no patience with fusses, and—

A faint noise tickled his ears, Frowning, he lifted up on one elbow as the ice-cold end of a pistol pressed against his forehead.

Startled, Ross found himself staring at Robert Hurst. The man was sitting in a chair that had been pulled beside the bed. Gone was the fanciful fop who’d irritated Ross since arriving; in the fop’s place was a man who knew how to hold a pistol steadily.

“Good morning, Ross,” Hurst said, his usual bored tone replaced by a deep intensity that made Ross’s stomach tighten uneasily. “Having a bad dream?”

Ross cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to tell you good-bye. Oh, and don’t worry about the onyx box. I fetched it myself.”

Ross’s gaze fell on the box sitting in plain sight on Hurst’s knee. It wasn’t the fake one, either. Damn it! “How did you find that?”

Hurst’s eyes gleamed in the firelight. “When I buy something, I expect to get it. And when I don’t, then I make certain I do.”

It suddenly dawned on Ross that this stern, powerful man had been hiding his true self all along. “You play a deep game, Hurst.”