James frowned at the woman whose lips were pink from his kisses. God, he wanted to go back to just two minutes before.
“Begging yer pardon, lass,” the man shouted up in a slurred bellow. “But who the hell are ye, and what have ye done with my woman?”
James stuck his head out the window. In themoonlight, a tall, stout, bearded man stood wearing an odd hat, an overlong coat, and holding what did in fact appear to be a lute.
“Who areyou, man? It’s one in the bloody morning.”
“He seems soused,” Lucy said as she braced her hands on the windowsill next to his. “Can we have your name please, sir?”
“I already asked him that.”
“You weren’t very polite.” She pushed her arm against his teasingly, and James wanted nothing more than to shut the window, pull the drapes, and go back to kissing her.
“Cassandra!” The man crooned her name as if it was part of his song. “My bonny lass. Bonniest of all lasses.”
Lucy chuckled. “He’s smitten.”
“He’s drunk and a terrible singer.”
“Sir, I’m Lady Lucy Westmont. Cassandra is my aunt, but she’s not at home.”
“I’m coming up.”
Whether the man misheard her or was too lost in his own drunken reverie, James couldn’t be sure.
“Coming up what?” Lucy whispered as she leaned further out the window.
James laid a hand across her back, gripping a handful of her nightgown to keep her secured inside.
“Can I have a look?” The window was tall but too narrow for both of them to lean their upper bodies out of at once.
Lucy retreated and James leaned out. It took him only a moment to realize the man below was not in his right mind.
James ducked back in. “I think he means to scale the side of the house.”
Lucy gripped his arm. “Good grief, he’ll injure himself.”
“I don’t think he’ll get far and will realize his folly.” James reached for her, to offer reassurance, but Lucy bolted away from him and ran for the door.
“We have to stop him.” The moment the breathless words were out, she took off down the hall, her footsteps thudding loudly and Hercules following in her wake.
By the time Lucy had donned a cloak and her boots and made it to the stairwell, James was waiting for her with a lantern he’d obtained from somewhere.
“You’re coming too?”
“Of course. I won’t let you go out there alone.” He wore a strange expression. The intensity in his gaze made her wish they were back in his room, that his fingers were still stroking her skin, that the kiss they’d started had gone further.
She already missed that intimate moment.
But there was a taut squareness to his jaw now too, as if he was clenching his teeth. Lucy couldn’t decide if it was the disappointment of being interrupted or a sign of regret.
“It’s raining. We should go before he tries scaling the side of the house and breaks his neck,” she said, and preceded him down the stairs before her true feelings spilled out.
“Prepare yourself,” he said quietly, his footsteps just a pace behind hers. “I heard movement downstairs. The ruckus has woken the staff.”
“Maybe they know him.”
“Indeed, we do, my lady.” Mrs. Fox stood watching them from the bottom of the stairs and then busied herself turning up the gas lamps in the foyer. “I’ve sent McKay out to deal with him, but I’m sorry that his antics disturbed your sleep.” She said the words to Lucy but glanced once at James too.
