The Naked Earl. Sally MacKenzie

again. She was becoming a regular mouse.

      “Robbie was naked?”

      “Well…yes.” Lizzie feared she would spontaneously combust from mortification. “In a manner of speaking, that is.”

      “Hmm.” Lady Bea’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “And how can a gentleman be naked in a manner of speaking?”

      Lizzie would not meet the older woman’s eyes. “It was dark.” After Robbie snuffed the candles. “I really didn’t see….” Enough.

      Lady Bea narrowed her eyes. “Immaterial. He was naked and in your room. He has to wed you. I am astounded that he did not propose the moment the door closed behind me. If word of this gets out—”

      “Word won’t get out.”

      “Word always gets out. Granted, only Lord Peter saw Westbrooke enter your window, and I suppose it could be argued he was mistaken since no one actually witnessed the earl with you, but still, as they say, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

      Meg nodded. “And Felicity will stoke the flames.”

      “No, I don’t believe she will in this case.” Lady Bea arranged her ample form in the upholstered chair by the fireplace. “She clearly wants Westbrooke for herself—just as he clearly does not want her. I expect he will offer for you this morning, Lizzie, so you must get dressed and go out. One would hope that he would address me first, as I am your chaperone, but given the fact that he has known you since infancy and is one of your brother’s closest friends, I doubt he will stand on ceremony.”

      Lizzie rubbed her suddenly wet palms on her nightgown.

      “Do you really think he will offer for me?”

      “How can he not? He has compromised you quite spectacularly. Of course he will offer. He is probably searching the estate for you now.”

      The thought of Robbie looking for her made her feel amazingly better.

      Damn.

      Robbie dodged behind a topiary bear. He’d taken a brisk walk around Lendal Park, searching for his equilibrium. He still had a number of days to live through this blasted house party. He couldn’t be trying to strangle Tynweith’s guests every time they mentioned Lizzie’s name—though Lord Peter had done far more than that. He forced his fists to relax. Every time he thought of the scene in the breakfast parlor, he wanted to hit something, preferably Lord Peter’s face. He would love to reorder his features. He would be doing the women of the world a favor, making Lord Peter’s countenance reflect the ugliness of his character.

      He’d hoped to make it back to the house without encountering anyone wishing to discuss last night’s unusual activities, and here was Lizzie, not twenty feet away, examining an oddly shaped bush. Sunlight filtered through her thin muslin gown, outlining her long legs. God. He rubbed suddenly damp palms on his breeches. Muslin should be outlawed or at least restricted to darkened areas, free of revealing sunbeams.

      He had not slept well. He’d been haunted by dreams of Lizzie’s white skin, her lovely small breasts and delicate pink nipples, her golden hair—all of it, curling over her shoulders, around her breasts, sweeping the curve of her lower back…and the separate patch nestling between her thighs.

      He was going to spill his seed in Tynweith’s blasted garden if he didn’t think of something else immediately.

      Escape. That was it. He needed to get back to his room undetected. He’d chosen this route because it went through one of the less popular gardens—Tynweith had actually discouraged the ladies from exploring it, telling them it was not suitable for their finer sensibilities. Why hadn’t Lizzie taken the hint and avoided the place?

      He would just have to choose a circuitous route to his room. He peered around the other side of the bear.

      Double damn. Lady Felicity, hands on hips, scanned the hedges. Her nostrils flared.

      God, was she a hound that she could sniff him out?

      What was so bloody attractive about the shrubbery today? This garden was sadly overgrown. The bear he was hiding behind, for instance. It definitely needed a trimming. Just look at…

      Robbie’s jaw dropped. The bear was not a bear at all, but a very large woman. A very large, very enceinte, very naked woman doing some very odd things with her bushy fingers.

      Tynweith’s gardener was clearly demented. Well, Tynweith had an odd kick to his gallop as well. Why Lady Beatrice accepted this house party invitation was beyond him.

      Felicity was headed his way. He felt a sudden affinity for Odysseus, forced to sail between Scylla and Charybdis. Well, it was clear who the six-headed monster was. And really, he’d be happy to be sucked into a certain whirlpool.

      He left the shelter of the obscene bear woman.

      “Lizzie.” He kept his voice low. Felicity probably had preternatural hearing. “Walk with me, will you?” He grabbed her elbow and tried to hustle her away from disaster.

      “Robbie!” She smiled widely up at him. “Have you been looking for me?”

      “Uh…” He smiled back, thinking quickly. Clearly the answer was supposed to be yes. She would not be happy to hear the truth—that he had wanted to sneak past her. “Actually, I didn’t expect to find you here. Didn’t Tynweith discourage you ladies from exploring this garden?”

      She shrugged. “I suppose he did. I got a bit lost and wandered in the wrong direction, I guess. But I found you.” She grinned.

      God, she was beautiful, especially when she was practically glowing up at him like this. But he couldn’t stand here admiring her. Felicity would find them in a moment. True, Lizzie’s presence would put paid to any compromising plans Felicity might harbor, but he didn’t care to spend any time in that she-devil’s company.

      “Yes. Well. Tynweith was correct. This is not an appropriate place for you. Come along.”

      Lizzie didn’t move.

      “This is a very odd garden. Can you tell me what this topiary is designed to depict? I’ve been studying it for the last five minutes and I cannot puzzle it out.”

      “Oh, for—” They were running out of time. He could almost feel Felicity breathing down his neck. He looked at the bush. “It’s a dog.”

      “Well, yes, I discerned that. But what’s it doing? What’s that part there?”

      “That? That’s, uh, that’s…” Bloody hell! “That’s not something you should be looking at. Now come along.” He tugged on her elbow again, and this time she came with him, though she kept looking back at the lascivious vegetation.

      “Why are you in such a hurry?”

      “Shh. Felicity is just on the other side of that hedge.”

      “Not anymore.”

      “Blast!” Sure enough, Felicity was back by the pregnant bear creature. She was looking the other way—perhaps she had not seen them yet. There was a slight break in the foliage just up ahead. “Hurry.”

      Robbie dragged Lizzie through a gap in the hedge. She tripped on a root, and he caught her against his chest, holding her tightly and turning so her dress would not draw Felicity’s attention to their hiding place.

      They were in a small bower with just enough room for two people to stand close together. Very close together.

      Robbie breathed in Lizzie’s light, lemony scent mixed with sunlight and vegetation. Her body was so soft against his. Her breasts. Her thighs. His hands smoothed over her bottom, pulling her toward him. He wanted her close. His palms moved up her sides, slid to her back.

      Her arms were now wrapped tightly around his waist, and—God!—her fingers were tracing the curve of his buttocks. Then they slid up under his coat.

      He