As Devorlane Hawley raised his head to check the time on the fob watch he'd flung on the bedside cabinet last night, his gaze was arrested by what was arrayed aroundthe top of it. Then it was arrested by what, or rather who, sat on the edge of the bed, in that damnable black peignoir, her hair cascading about her shoulders.
"Very well. So, you think you've found me out? Now, how about you put this little stash back where you got it? And go away again?"
In truth he had never felt more incensed. Or he might were his body not so exhausted by the latest fever to ravage it that his veins were limp as wet dusters. What was she doing in his drawer? Looking for jewels to pilfer? As for being confronted with his misdeeds? Great. He eased back against the bedrail. "It's hardly what you think."