“Devon St. John.” He waited to see if there was some flicker of acknowledgment in her gaze, but none came. Good. Curse or no curse, he’d be damned if he’d trade on the family name in an effort to win a chit to his bed. He’d never had to do so before, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He gathered the pillows and piled them behind him so that he could lean back and still see the woman’s expression.

She eyed him cautiously, but made no move to dash for the door. “Who let you in?” she repeated.

“The housekeeper, I believe. Short woman, rather thin.” He held out his hand. “About this tall, with big feet and a thick, gray braid.”

“That would be her,” the maid said grimly. “I wonder why the devil she didn’t show you into one of the guest chambers.”

“None were ready.”

“That is not surprising. Still, she had no right to give you this chamber.” She met his gaze and said stiffly, “It is mine.”

The housekeeper had said that it was the room of a lady’s maid, which would explain the green-eyed woman’s rather polished tones. “So this bed is yours, is it?” He smiled his most winsome smile. “I love the scent of lavender.” And would have loved it even more if he had been inhaling the sweet scent from her bare skin and not just her pillows and sheets.

“How pleasant,” she said in a tone that implied the information was anything but. “I’m certain someone has by now prepared a room for you. It is time you left.”

The maid was as hospitable in manner as the housekeeper from the previous night. The help at Kilkairn Castle were poorly trained. They were, in fact, the worst Devon had ever experienced, with the exception of his brother Brandon’s coachman, a not-quite-reformed thief.

Still, it behooved Devon to jolly the maid along, especially if he wished to visit her bed with her in it. He let his gaze travel across her, touching on the fullness of her breasts, the round curve of her hips. Rich like an oversoft mattress, her body beckoned him to while away a few pleasant hours. He imagined what she’d be like between the sheets and had to shift to get comfortable again. He didn’t know if it was the faint air of challenge that clung to her very generous curves or the curves themselves, but he was quite ready to sample her bounty.

He stretched a bit, letting the sheet slip a touch lower. As soon as her eyes traveled over his chest, to his lap, he said, “This is a wonderful bed. The mattress is firm, the sheets sweet-smelling. Perhaps I should just stay here.”

Her gaze jerked back to his face, and she plopped her hands on her hips. “Nay, you will not.”