The gown appeared very simple, the bodice cut at a decorous level, the sleeves puffed at her shoulders. But the second she walked, the cream overgown parted and the bronze silk was left in full view to cling lovingly to her long, slender legs.

Robert nodded. “That will do very well.”

“Good.” Moira picked up a small cream-colored reticule and slipped it over her wrist.

“How was your personal tour of the castle?”

“Interesting. We didn’t have time to walk through all of it, but I have a fairly clear idea of how the main wing is laid out. I’ll draw up a map after dinner.”

“And our host? Did he behave?”

“Barely.” Moira’s eyes twinkled. “Whenever I felt uneasy, I mentioned your skill with dueling pistols.”

Robert caught her arm and pulled her to him, looking into her upturned face. “Moira, you’re not to put yourself in harm’s way. Do you understand?”

“I was never in harm’s way. And if I ever found myself there, I’d use my pistol.”

“I’m certain that you’re deadly with the blasted thing, but still . . . for Rowena’s sake, please be careful.”

Moira nodded.

Robert released her, his chest oddly tight. “By the way, we’re blessed with an inordinate number of footmen standing in the hallway.”

“How many?” she asked curiously.

“Twelve.”

“Good God, are we at Versailles?”

“You’d think so. I wonder if they’re here to serve . . . or guard.”

Moira’s brow lowered. “That will make searching the castle much more difficult.”

“I shall think of something.”

She sent him a crooked smile. “I’m sure you will. Are you ready to spend a few hours insulting Sir Lachlan?”

“Are you ready to spend a few hours shamelessly flattering him?”

“Indeed I am.”

“Then we are both ready.” He opened the door. “After you, Mrs. Hurst.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hurst.” She swept past him into the hallway.

The next morning, Robert flipped back his curtain, the sun pouring in as he surveyed the courtyard far below. Except for two horses held at wait by grooms, it was empty.

The evening had gone smoothly. Ross had been charmed by Moira, annoyed by Robert, and increasingly curious about their marital relationship. This morning, Moira had gone to breakfast with Ross while Robert stayed in his room, ostensibly too languid to face the sunrise.

If things were going according to plan, Moira was on her way to an energetic ride with her host, leaving the way clear for Robert. Except for those damn footmen. I shall have to do something about that.

The grooms below brought the horses to the front steps as the huge doors opened and Moira came out, her gloved hand upon Ross’s arm. Ross’s deep voice echoed through the yard, Moira’s head bent toward him as she listened.

Her habit was a masterly creation; though buttoned to the neck and showing not an inch of skin beyond her face, it molded to every curve. Ross was much closer to her than politeness dictated, his hand placed over hers in a possessive manner. A flare of red-hot jealousy caught Robert, and his hands clutched the windowsill until his knuckles were white.