Undressed by the Earl by Michelle Willingham

for Christine. And that I will do. She needs someone to help her as she moves into her adolescent years.” Although Miss Grant had certainly helped Christine with her studies, the governess was not at all prepared to help his daughter make her debut into society.
    Margaret returned to the game table, and she sat beside him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she appeared out of breath. “I am sorry for being away for so long. Aunt Charlotte wanted me to help the boys in a game of blindman’s buff.” She picked up the teetotum and spun it, preparing to take her turn.
    “Our game was nearly over anyway,” David said.
    “One of us could still win,” Margaret pointed out. “It isn’t your turn yet.”
    “Only if I allow you to cheat.” He passed the teetotum to Amelia.
    She moved her tin dog three squares ahead and laughed. “There, see! The triumph is mine.”
    Upon the embroidered square, he saw the words Advance to the end .
    “That makes no sense at all. You’re only halfway around the board.”
    “It’s a very special square. And so, I claim the victory.” Her mouth curved in a wide smile. “Tomorrow, you will accompany Margaret and me to the tailor’s. You’re going to buy waistcoats in several colors. That will be your forfeit.”
    He had a sudden vision of being outfitted with a yellow waistcoat. Wincing, he turned his attention to Margaret. “Is that the forfeit you desire, Miss Andrews?”
    “Not at all,” she countered. “Instead, I’d rather save my forfeit and claim it at a time when it’s needed.”
    “A favor, then.”
    She inclined her head. “There may come a time when I need rescuing from a meddling younger sister.”
    True enough. Turning back to Amelia, he said, “I will agree to your forfeit. But you must promise to keep your word as well, regarding Viscount Lisford. You may find that he is not the man you thought he was.”
    “Or I might find that he is a man in grave need of saving,” she answered softly.

Chapter Four
    M argaret stepped outside the servants’ entrance of her family’s town house, glancing around to be certain no one saw her. In her palm, she carried the note that she’d received this morning from Cain Sinclair. The Highlander had asked to meet with her, and he claimed that if she did not agree, he would come to the front door and cause a scene.
    She fully believed he would, for Sinclair was a man who cared nothing for appearances. When he wanted something, he let nothing stop him.
    Margaret tucked a stray strand of hair into her chignon, her cheeks already warming at the thought. For she was something he wanted, and he’d made that clear. He’d stolen a few devastating kisses that had made her knees weak. But besides the fact that he was a wild Scotsman with hardly a house to call his own, he was an arrogant man who never listened to a word she said.
    Sinclair was waiting for her against the side of the house with his arms crossed. He wore a green-and-brown tartan, while his black hair hung past his shoulders. It gave him the air of a man who only obeyed the law when it suited him.
    Squaring her shoulders, she approached him, knowing that he must have a strong reason for coming to see her. The last time she’d seen him, he’d asked—no, demanded —that she marry him. He’d never forgiven her for the refusal.
    “Good morning, Mr. Sinclair,” she greeted him, as if nothing had happened in the past few years. Better to pretend that all was well. “Would you like to step inside the kitchen and have something to eat?” she offered. Courtesy might soften whatever complaint he had to give.
    “I don’t want anything from you, Miss Andrews. I came because I’ll no’ be your errand boy any longer.”
    She didn’t understand what he was talking about. “You’re not my errand boy.”
    He closed the distance between them, and Margaret forced herself to remain in place. His blue eyes were the color of steel. “Aye, and who’s been delivering all the