There. That ought to bring him forth. If Maia knew one thing about men, she knew that they didn’t like to have their bedchambers invaded by the fairer sex.
Except for their wives and mistresses, she supposed. And for some reason, her face flushed hot. What if he had a woman in there with him? A mental image of tangled sheets and a bare-chested man next to an equally bare woman made her cheeks even hotter.
Did unmarried earls actually bring those sorts of women into their homes? Or did they visit them at outside establishments? Or did he have a regular mistress?
How could a woman even stand to spend any length of time with his rude, controlling self? She supposed that while they were engaging in such activities, perhaps he wasn’t talking quite so much. Her cheeks burned hotter.
“I am abed, Miss Woodmore, and have no intention of leaving it. If you insist upon speaking with me at this time, then don’t let something as ridiculous as propriety keep you out.”
Well, that made it sound as if he was alone. She drew in a deep breath and inched the door open farther, curling her fingers around the edge as much to keep it in position as to force herself to move forward. “My lord, I must speak with you regarding Angelica.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to come in. I can’t hear what you are saying.”
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the door. She could just picture the contrary smile on his arrogant face—at least, she would if she could even fathom the man smiling. Which seemed an impossibility. He was playing with her, pushing her. Hoping to run her off.
Vile man. I’ll show you who’s not afraid of you and your bedchamber.
Still holding the edge of the door, she stepped fully onto the threshold, the door opening into a wide angle. She glanced at him once, then swiftly looked away, and her cheeks burst into flame. He was naked, and the image that she’d seen for only the briefest moment was burned into her brain.
And it was much more fascinating—no, no, intimidating—than her previous, mental one.
Try as she might, closing her eyes, blinking, looking into the depths of the shadowy room, she couldn’t banish the image of him sitting up, lounging against the head of the bed. The sheets were low, down to his waist, and a broad, very hairy chest and muscular arms showed dark against the white sheets. Maia tried to swallow, and her throat made an odd creaking sound because it was so dry. She felt all sorts of fluttering, hot feelings inside.
At last she found her voice. “This is exceedingly untoward.”
“What is it, Miss Woodmore?” He was taunting her. Definitely taunting her. “Surely the sight of a man’s torso isn’t all that upsetting to a woman who is due to be married in short order.”
“You could cover yourself,” she said from between unmoving jaws.
“I see no reason to do so. Now what is it you must speak with me about?”
He really is the vilest man. She refused to look at him. Absolutely refused to allow her peripheral vision to scan over the impossibly square angle of his shoulders, outlined so well by the pale bedcoverings.
Maia continued, turning her attention to the matter at hand. “It’s Angelica. She’s been bitten by a…by one of those creatures that came to the masquerade ball. Vampirs. And she had horrible nightmares last night, my lord. I held her all night long, and she cried and thrashed.” Her voice turned rough and she had to swallow hard to keep it steady. Despite her own dream of being bitten—a dream, a memory, that hadn’t fully left her and still wrapped itself slyly around her consciousness—she knew that Angelica’s experience had not been the hot, sensual one of her dream. “She won’t tell me precisely what happened, but I fear that the worst has been done.” If Dewhurst had ravished and ruined her sister, Maia would go after him herself, vampir or no. If Aunt Iliana could do it somehow, carrying a stake and presumably using it, so could Maia. “Not to mention…”
He shuffled under the bedcoverings, and she heard the crisp shift of the starched sheets. “I’m aware of all that you’ve told me, Miss Woodmore. And if you find it reassuring, your sister has assured me that…er…there is no reason to demand satisfaction or that Dewhurst come up to snuff. She is intact.”
“Up to snuff? I should hope not!” Maia exclaimed, forgetting herself and glancing at him. His face didn’t seem to have the same arrogance she was used to. Was the man softening, or was it merely the result of being awakened? “Even if he did—well…I would never…Chas would never…allow him to come near her again.” Angelica compromised and wed to a vampir? Never.
“You seem to have forgotten that I am Angelica’s guardian at this time,” Corvindale said. The arrogance was back.
And so was her fury with him. God rot Chas for sticking her and Angelica with this impossible man as a temporary guardian. “As I said, my lord, I would not allow it.”
He shifted and the sheet slipped farther. Maia tore her gaze away, but not before she saw…oh, God, a hip? A flat, ridged belly…and the shadow of something lower? She’d felt Alexander’s chest before, of course, through his shirt…and, once, under it…but she hadn’t really seen it. And even if she had, she didn’t think it looked quite so…dark. And imposing. And—
Maia swallowed hard, and focused on the heavy curtains obscuring his window. She needed some answers, and she was going to get them—even if the man strode naked from his bed to come over and close the door himself. “What is my brother doing? How long has he been involved with these creatures? And what is your involvement, my lord? Do you associate with them, as well? Did you know that Dewhurst was one of them?”
“Do not concern yourself with me, or the other details, Miss Woodmore. All you need know is that you and your sisters are safe under my care, here at Blackmont Hall and at St. Bridie’s, too. As for your brother…when he returns, I’m certain that he will answer at least some of your questions. And I am hopeful that he will do so in short order. Now, is there anything else, Miss Woodmore? This conversation hardly seems worth interrupting my sleep and threatening your reputation. Or is your reputation no longer a concern for you, now that you are off the marriage mart?”
She snapped upright and once again turned to look at him, meeting his eyes head-on. “You are beyond vile, Lord Corvindale,” she whispered in a purely heartfelt tone.
And the man actually had the nerve to grin at her. A cool, arrogant smirk.