I should have been allowed to be a part of Rowena’s life, damn it. I should have been told about—He swallowed back the thought. I can’t think about that right now. I need to find that damned box.

Still, Robert found himself looking out of the window. Ross reached up to assist Moira from her mount. She unhooked her knee from the pommel and said something that made him laugh as she jumped from the horse’s back, Ross’s hands firmly about her waist as he assisted her to the ground.

Robert scowled when Ross didn’t immediately release her, bending forward to whisper something in her ear. Moira blushed adorably before turning and dashing up the front steps, her skirts fluttering behind her. With a bemused grin, Ross hurried after her, and they disappeared.

Robert realized his hand was fisted about the heavy silk curtain. He released it, disgusted by Ross and irritated by his own reactions. She is doing as she is supposed to do, nothing more. I need to stop this ridiculous possessiveness.

There was something about Ross that infuriated Robert. Perhaps it’s his overanxious air, as if he’s desperate to prove himself. That might explain why he takes such delight in collecting other men’s wives as trophies.

Robert stepped back from the window and glanced at the clock. Buffon had promised a diversion, but not for another twenty minutes. And there was no getting past the footmen without some help.

He looked back outside. There was a ledge here, similar to the one outside his bedchamber, but there were too many men in the courtyard to escape that way.

He’d have to leave through the hallway as soon as Buffon produced the promised distraction. Robert just had to wait and—

Moira’s voice sounded from the hallway, laughing merrily at something, and Robert grimaced. Damn it, they are coming here!

Sir Lachlan patted Moira’s hand. “I look forward to sharing some of my treasures with a true appreciator of art.”

“Egypt is so romantic.”

He laughed indulgently. “It’s certainly profitable.” He allowed a footman to open the study door and gestured for her to precede him. “After you, my dear.”

Just before Moira stepped forward, a movement danced at the corner of her eye and she saw Buffon darting across the end of the hallway.

Ross must have seen the surprise on her face, for he turned to follow her gaze.

If Buffon is nearby, then—She glanced at the open study door and then forced a laugh. “Don’t mock me, but . . .” She pointed to a suit of armor that stood guard by the door. “For a moment, I thought I saw it move. One of your ghosts, perhaps?”

Ross laughed. “Not that I’m aware of. We have no ghosts who fancy suits of armor.”

“It must have been a trick of the light.”

“It had to be, since—” He frowned and wrinkled his nose. He turned to one of the footmen. “I smell smoke!”

The man stiffened and answered immediately, his Scots burr pronounced. “I’m sorry, sir. There was a slight fire in the upstairs hallway shortly after you and Mrs. Hurst left. Actually, there were two fires, both small and quickly extinguished.”