Robert’s thoughts died, his eyes locking on the girl’s face as she suddenly gave her head a shake as if trying to clear her head and ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back and up from her face.

“Damn,” Robert breathed. Dear God, the alluringly dressed little strumpet was no strumpet at all. It was Lisa Madison!

For one moment, he simply stood gaping, his eyes again traveling over generous curves that her damned frilly gowns didn’t normally reveal. But then he recalled that he was perched on a ledge outside a window gaping at and—if he were honest with himself—lusting after a damned near nude Lisa Madison . . . who was like a little sister to him.

Cursing, Robert squatted slightly to reach and open the window, and then leaned in, whispering, “Lisa.”

The word was a bare hiss of sound, but enough to draw her head around. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and then rushed forward.

Robert couldn’t help noticing that her breasts jiggled temptingly with each step, and her generous hips swayed. Damn, who knew she hid such a tempting little body under those voluminous gowns she wore? Richard and Daniel were right, Lisa was definitely all grown up. When the devil had that happened?

The question was lost to the corners of his mind when she reached the window, threw herself at him with a happy cry, and damned near sent him tumbling backward off the ledge.

Catching at the window frame, Robert managed to save himself, not to mention her, since she would have gone out with him. He then released one hand from the frame to wrap his arm around her.

“Oh, Robert. Thank goodness. I knew you’d come,” she mumbled into his neck and he frowned at the slight slur to her words.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked, pulling back slightly to try to see her face.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded apologetically. “Mrs. Morgan made me drink this sort of spiced wine. I mean it tasted like wine but I know it had other stuff in it. She said it would relax me for what was to come. I think it was drugged like the tea. But not with a sleeping powder. With something else. It made me feel all soft and floaty.”

“Hmmm.” He frowned, his gaze dropping down over the gown she wore. It didn’t hide a damned thing, not the round globes of her breasts or the dusky pink of her nipples, which were presently erect, he noted and scowled. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Mrs. Morgan made me wear it. She said my suitor would like me in this. Do you like me in this?” She glanced down at herself. “I like how it feels on my skin. It feels floaty.”