Free Outlaw's Angel by Colleen Quinn Page A

“And Lord Woodruffs description of this gem was so singularly impressive that I had to look into this. Especially since he obtained the emerald from your son.”
    “Devon.” The duke toyed with his glass, staring into the flames. “My son has finances of his own, moneys that I do not keep track of. Most likely he purchased the gem for some lady, as a token for favor, and later had little use for it, especially with his pending marriage. I will question him about it.”
    “Why not do so now?”
    “He isn’t here.” The duke smiled coldly. “We weren’t informed of your arrival, or certainly Devon would have stayed to visit with you.”
    “I am sorry.” The earl rose, taking the duke’s cold hand into his own. “Perhaps the next time. I intend to investigate this matter fully. We don’t want those gems falling into the wrong hands.”
    “Like the Angel’s?” the duke questioned softly. “Should a MacLeod obtain them, he could possibly entice Bonnie Charlie back to his homeland.”
    “Aye.” The earl stared at the nobleman before him, his naked rage blazing from his eyes. He is not far from his countrymen, the duke thought, in spite of his linens and ruffles. The blood cries out the same. “I think we both have much to lose should that happen.”
    The earl quit the room, leaving the duke alone. The Duke of Sutcliffe stared into the fire for a long moment, then reached into the pocket of his coat and opened a watch. The cameo of a woman stared back at him, her liquid eyes beseeching him silently. “Flora,” he whispered. Slowly he closed the case and drank quickly of his port, stilling the ever-present ache inside of him.
    The window was locked. Marisa sank into a slump beneath the crystal panes, her hands still aching from trying to force them open. Fear, anticipation, and despair began to build within her, threatening her sanity. She could see the star-encrusted sky, and Marisa knew that only a few hours had passed; yet already it seemed like days since she’d left her old life. Dismally she sank down onto the bed, thinking of her home, her parents, Devon. She would have been married, would have been in Devon’s arms.
    Her eyes strayed to her gown, and she thought of Kyle’s enforced stripping of her. A strange shiver went through her and she rose from the bed, pacing about the floor. Her mind wandered to the way he had kissed her before he left, that soft brush of his lips that had the power to ignite something within her. And when he returned…
    A woman giggled from the next room, every sound painfully obvious through the walls.
    “Ye want ta see something, lovey?” Marisa shuddered at the swish of taffeta, then heard the man’s appreciative laugh.
    “Come here, wench,” he chortled, his voice thick with rum. The woman laughed shrilly, then came the sound of bedropes creaking with their weight. The awkward rocking became rhythmic. Marisa tried to ignore the other sounds that followed, grunts and cries of pleasure. She put her hands over her ears, forcing herself to think.
    The noises finally stopped. Marisa listened carefully, hearing the coarse snoring of the man, the woman’s tottering step as she edged out of bed.
    “Here’s my money, lovey, right here.” The woman laughed. A jingle of coins followed. “Ye can’t say Annie’s a cheat, no matter what. I said three shillings and I’ll take three. Now if I could just get this blooming dress on…”
    The door slowly creaked open and a plan took shape in Marisa’s mind. Cautiously, she crept to her own door and tapped gingerly. “Please,” she called out, trying to stop her voice from shaking. “Miss, if you please.”
    “Wot’s going on?” the woman asked from the hall.
    Marisa swallowed her fear and spoke normally. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but it seems I’ve locked myself in. Would you mind opening the door for me?”
    “I don’t know,” the woman said suspiciously. “I don’t know you.”
    “Yes you do, Annie,”