Chapter Three
Malcolm stood inthe corner of the ballroom, nursing a glass of much-too-sweet punch. It was a taste he found most unpleasant. The drink should be reserved for children, not given to grown adults trying to escape the boredom of what their life had become. What he really wanted was a dram of whisky. Mayhap two.
He scanned the attendees and was almost certain that the coin the viscount had paid Malcolm for his “security expertise” was a wasted investment.
The ball was a drab affair, but he was thankful to be staying on the outskirts of the party and not be the focus of the mamas pushing their daughters of marrying age upon every eligible man in the room. Being unavailable to sign the lasses’ dance cards was a welcome happenstance. The men being ambushed on the floor looked flustered at the best and miserable at worst.
His mission to remain undetected from the focused search of the women had so far been successful.
No one in attendance had caught his curiosity. Most were too loud and wanting to be the center of attention to be capable of slinking about unnoticed to pilfer the host’s jewels.
Then he saw the raven-haired lass with wide brown eyes and he suddenly had a person of interest. But not because she looked suspicious. Nay, not at all. When their eyes collided, a jolt of heat surged through him before he quickly looked away. It hadbeen too long since he’d lost himself in the soft curves of a lass. His body’s sudden reaction was an unfriendly reminder of just exactly how long it had been.
A bonnie lass was not the reason he was here, though. Even if he doubted that the Phantom Prowler would make an appearance, making Malcolm’s presence unnecessary, it didn’t mean that he could turn his attentions elsewhere. His work ethic would not allow it.
Unable to ignore the pull, he slid his gaze over to the lass once again. Her full bosom tested the bodice of her rose-colored gown. White gloves covered her hands to her slim, upper arms. Her fair skin reminded him of the finest porcelain. Her soft curves beckoned him.
He cleared his throat, dragging his stare away from her and cursed his wandering thoughts as they began to wonder what was hidden behind the silky material she wore.
Before temptation overcame him and he found himself once again focusing on the lass, he turned in the opposite direction and moved to the other side of the room, putting distance between them.
Standing in a corner, he squared his shoulders, and turned to the crowd gathered on the dance floor, the heels of the dancing couples’ shoes creating a steady staccato that echoed throughout the room. A servant carrying a tray of champagne passed and Malcolm reached out, trading his punch for something slightly more palatable.
At least he knew the champagne wouldn’t dull his senses.
A strong hand clapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jolt and the champagne to splash on his hand. He turned to see Gunn smiling broadly.
The spilled champagne forgotten, he grinned. “Brother,” Malcolm greeted his close friend, and they shook handsenthusiastically, clapping each other on the back. “’Tis been too long since I’ve last seen ye.”
Gunn nodded, his brow furrowing. “Aye. Business has kept me close to home.”
“All is well, I hope?”
Gunn’s eyes darkened, his smile faltering for a moment before he replaced it with a grin. “Ne’er better.”
Malcolm kenned his friend lied. But if Gunn wanted him to ken all the details, he would have disclosed them, so he didn’t push. Instead, he quickly changed the subject.
“Are ye ready to be bombarded by all the mamas? They seem to be particularly honed in on eligible bachelors this eve.”
Just as Gunn opened his mouth to answer, the shrill call of one of the aforementioned mamas rang out, piercing the air. Malcolm blanched at the most uncomely sound and discreetly backed away, ignoring Gunn’s silent plea for help.
“My lord,” a woman called to Gunn, pushing her daughter toward him. “I would like to introduce ye to my daughter…”
Malcolm didn’t stay within earshot any longer, instead opting to walk around the outer perimeter of the ballroom once again. His eyes studied every male in attendance, but didn’t notice anyone acting out of sorts or suspicious in any way.
He scanned the room, looking for the raven-haired lass to no avail. Mayhap she also deemed the party a bore and took an early leave. He’d be lying if he said he was surprised. Deciding there was naught in the ballroom to see, he slipped out into the corridor. The air in the hall was slightly cooler and the area much quieter. He took a deep breath and enjoyed a brief respite.
Walking the length of the hall, he checked to ensure doors to rooms that were off-limits remained shut. As expected, everything was as it should be.
He passed the stairway that led to the upper rooms and the viscount and viscountess’s chambers. That was when he heard it. The slightest creak of a door upstairs.
So quiet, if he hadn’t been paying careful attention he would have missed it. Looking back toward the ballroom doors, he noted the hall was empty.
Mayhap he was wrong about the prowler. Mayhap the foolwasdaft enough to attempt a theft kenning that Malcolm was here to prevent that very thing.
He slipped up the stairs, careful to not make any noise as he kept to the carpeted center. On the second floor, he paused, ears straining for any additional noise.
Another creak and his head snapped to the area of the sound. The viscountess’s chamber. He knew for a fact the viscountess was downstairs playing hostess alongside her husband. She would not be in her bedchamber.
