Heat flooded her cheeks.
“In the spirit of honesty,” she said quickly, before she could lose her nerve, “I should probably confess something.”
Morgan paused in the act of opening the wine. “Oh?”
“Do you remember when Arthur and Philip were here? During their stay?”
“Of course.”
“Well, there was an incident. In the kitchen. With flour. Lots and lots of flour.” Eliza’s words came faster now, tumbling over each other like an avalanche. “They spilled an entire sack of it everywhere, and then they ran. I chased them through the house, and they ended up… well…
“Where?”
“Here. In your chambers.”
Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “They what?!”
“I got to them before they could go snooping through anything, I promise! I whisked them out immediately. But in the process of… corralling them… I might have accidentally discovered…”
“Discovered what, Eliza?”
She gestured vaguely toward the wardrobe. “Well, your secret closet.”
For a long moment, Morgan simply stared at her. Then he laughed. It was a genuine, unguarded sound that transformed his entire face.
“Oh God. You found my… collection.”
“I promise, I didn’t mean to!” Eliza’s face was burning now as hot as the flames of Hell. “I was trying to grab Philip, and I backed into the wardrobe, and the false panel just… opened. And I saw, well. I saw…”
“What exactly did you see?” Morgan asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“Enough to know that you have… varied interests. I am not a woman of the world, but I know enough to ascertain the use of such items.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not thrilled that you discovered that particular secret quite so soon. I had planned to… introduce you to it. More gradually.”
The implication in those words made Eliza’s stomach flip as they hung in the air for a quiet moment.
“I promise I didn’t mean to snoop,” she said again.
“I believe you.” Morgan poured two glasses of wine, the liquid dark and rich in the candlelight.
“I am glad,” she said with a blush. “Will I see it again?”
“Good Heavens, Eliza,” he said with a small laugh. “You surprise me. You want to be corrupted by your formerly rakish husband?”
“I want… I don’t know.”
“I had no intention of debauching my beautiful wife, but I fear you’ll see it again eventually. Though next time, the circumstances will be rather different.”
The flirtation in his voice was unmistakable. Eliza bit her lip, heat pooling low in her belly and moving like a typhoon between her legs. She’d never felt anything quite like this before, this mixture of nervousness and anticipation and want. It was more intoxicating than the Bordeaux.
Morgan crossed to her, offering one of the wine glasses. “Here. This might help.”
She took it gratefully, bringing it to her lips. The wine was smooth, warming as it slid down her throat. She took another small sip, then set the glass aside, not trusting herself to drink more. She’d had wine at dinner, many times of course, but never in a situation like this. Never when she needed her wits about her. Though what good her wits would do her now, she had no idea.
Morgan set his own glass on the mantle, then turned to face her fully. The soft amber light played across his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and full beard, the intensity in his emerald eyes.
“Eliza,” he said quietly. “May I approach you?”
