He stopped mere inches from her. It occurred to her at last that she was being very, very foolish.
This room had two long uncurtained windows and the moonlight was bright, showing him to her clearly at last. Beneath his dark jacket and leather riding breeches was clearly a superb collection of bone and muscle that must out-mass her two to one. Behind the beautiful face was a will that would not be turned from its goal.
His goal just now was the fireplace she guarded with her body.
She swallowed, hoping she didn’t look as frightened as she felt.
Portia’s mother had often bemoaned her daughter’s rash nature, blaming it upon the name chosen by her idealistic father. Hannah Upcott did not care for theater at the best of times, and thought Portia’s name encouraged an unseemly drive to challenge the world. She had insisted that her second daughter be named Prudence.
Hannah regularly predicted that Portia’s reckless nature would land her in trouble, and often quoted the adage: “Those who tempt fortune risk losing all.” Portia feared that she was about to prove her mother right, but she still couldn’t meekly step aside.
Her opponent made no immediate move to manhandle her. “If there is nothing there, why the heat?”
Despite a racing heart, she looked him in the eye. “You have forced your way into this house, sir. I will not allow this intrusion.”
“At another time, Hippolyta, I would be amused to test your ability to allow or disallow, but my business is somewhat urgent. May I point out that the easiest way to have me leave is to allow me to find what I have come for?”
“You will have to prove you have the right to the document. To whom does it belong?”
“I told you. To a lady.” There was the warning edge of impatience in his voice.
“And how did it come to be here?”
“Let us say, she was a guest.”
She glanced around the stark room. “In here? I doubt it.”
“Perhaps she has ascetic tastes. Why, I wonder, are you so fierce in your guarding of this place? Does the Earl of Walgrave deserve such allegiance?”
The name startled Portia. If this Malloren man knew the house was leased by the Earl of Walgrave, then he clearly was not in the wrong house after all.
For the first time Portia wondered if his business here was legitimate. He had, after all, knocked on the door like an honest man. She had heard the sharp raps but ignored them. No one would be knocking at the door looking for her, and being alone in the house she had no mind to open it so late at night.
She said, “The earl, like any householder, has the right to expect that his home be inviolate.”
“I doubt the mighty earl would claim this simple place his home. He merely leased it for a purpose. Since it is the earl’s property, however, I wonder whatyouare doing here. Housekeeper, perhaps?”
“Certainly not.”
“An intruder, then, like myself? After all, I came upon you skulking in the chilly dark, pistol in hand.”
“I was notskulking.We are guests, sir. We are well-acquainted with the earl, and he invited us to stay here.” Portia would not tell him that she and her brother were impoverished supplicants and that the earl had commanded them to await his pleasure here.
“Us?”
Portia realized she was being trapped into conversation, and conversation was dangerous.
“Us?” he repeated softly.
“Myself, ten hefty brothers, and three servants,” she declared, chin high. “They are all out at the moment.”
“Only three servants?” he drawled. “How paltry. I require that many to hand me my clothes in the morning.”
She was not entirely sure he was joking. “I will not meekly permit you to do what you want here, Mr. Malloren.”
“My lord,” he corrected amiably, moving a little closer. “Lord Arcenbryght Malloren. An absurd name, but mine own.”
Portia was aware of a distressing tendency to both gape and sidle away, but she hit back. “Your rank does not excuse your wickedness, my lord.”
