Grinning, he only said, “I hivnae been cold since the day I met ye.”
“Not even that day in the dungeon?”
“Nay, I told ye the sight of er…” he began and they finished together, “bonny face is enough to warm me.” With a pleased smile, she leaned against his side, and he brushed a kiss over her temple, whispering, “Of course, I dinnae think I mentioned specifically which parts of me ye warmed.”
Hero blushed then and shook her head. “We can discuss that in just a moment. Hold this, if you would.” She handed him the candle and continued, “Now, watch. You see these two flowers here?” He nodded, and she rotated them to the right, one after the other. “And then this one?” She pushed it and with a click, a larger leaf separated from the mantel and jutted outward. Intrigued, he pulled at it and it swung outward to reveal a small compartment hidden in the mantel.
“Clever.”
She dropped the ring into a small velvet bag and put it inside, then pushed the little door closed. “There. Now it will be safe until we next go into Ayr or Glasgow and can have it sized. I used to keep some of my more valuable jewels in there as well, but they are all in a safe box at the bank now.”
“And I have one of those as well?”
“You do, but I don’t know the combination, so unless you were to get very bored and very lucky one afternoon, I suppose the secret died with Robert.”
Ian pictured his own mantel, finding himself intrigued enough to wonder if he might figure it out on his own. He’d always liked puzzles and such. “What do you suppose he kept in there? Jennings said all the marquessate’s jewels were accounted for.”
“Probably his best cigars.” She shrugged, then smiled when he remained fixated on the fireplace. Rounding the bed, she slipped out of her dressing gown. “Would you like to go figure it out now or can it wait until morning?”
“Would you be so tolerant on your wedding night?” He chuckled, but when he turned, the smile faded away at the sight of Hero standing nude in the light of the single candle. “Ah, lass, even if ye dinnae mind, I’d be a raving fool to walk away from such a sight.”
She climbed back into bed, her siren’s smile beckoning him. “I was hoping you’d feel that way.”
Setting the candleholder down on a bedside table, Ian blew it out before crawling onto the soft mattress and gathering her into his arms. “Am I ever destined to get a good night’s sleep again?”
“If you do, then I guess I’ll be doing something wrong,” she whispered in the darkness, but he could feel the smile in her voice. “Perhaps when I’m with child you would prefer your own bed and a night’s rest alone.”
The thought seized him and he ran a hand down to Hero’s soft stomach, imagining her rounded with his child. She would be even lovelier, he decided. Radiant. Content. His body thrummed with the primal urge to procreate. “Do you want children?”
She nodded against his chest. “I always did. A boy, I think, who looks just like you.”
“A lass as bonny as her mother,” he countered, running a hand over her hip and down between her legs. “Or both, aye?”
“Oh yes,” she whispered, inhaling a trembling breath.
In the next instant, her nose wrinkled. “That wick must still be smoldering. Can you smell it?”
Ian did smell it, but it wasn’t just the scent of a burning wick and he felt his skin prickle just as it did on the battlefield. A warning. Something was wrong. Climbing out of the bed, he found his trousers in the darkness and pulled them on.
“Ian? What is it?”
“Stay here.”
He crossed the room silently to the door to her dressing room, which stood ajar. Instantly the smell of smoke became stronger and he slid stealthily through Hero’s wardrobe and into his. Through the open door to his chamber, light flickered, and he could see the haze of smoke.
His room was on fire! Ian raced to the door and drew up short at the sight of a short, burly man holding a candle to the draperies still drawn around his bed. How was this possible? He was agog with disbelief, but with a shout of rage, charged into the room. Catching the startled arsonist around the waist, Ian drove him into the far wall, smiling grimly at the man’s pained groan.
Catching him by his lapels, Ian thrust the villain back once again. “Who sent you?” When the answer didn’t immediately come, Ian slammed him back once more.
“Ye bastard,” the man spat, swinging out with a fist, but Ian ducked it neatly and proceeded to give the man the beating of his lifetime. His fists flew fast, landing hard punches to the man’s midsection and jaw before they could even be defended.
Hero was at the door, clutching her dressing gown around her. “Ian! What on earth?”
“Get back, Hero!”
Of course, she ignored him and rushed to the fireplace, pulling the cords several times to call the servants. “We have to put the fire out.”
Their would-be murderer chose that moment to plow his fist into Ian’s ribcage, and with a grunt of pain, Ian turned his attention back to the fight at hand. Catching the man’s shirt in his left hand, Ian swung a hard right with all the fury that was burning in his soul, catching the man across his cheek, and added another that found his nose with a satisfying crunch.
