His Woman by Diana Cosby Page B

single chamber. As with everything else, he thrived on luxury, a show of his wealth.
    Duncan crossed to the door and opened it. Fury hardened the sharp angles of his face as he surveyed Frasyer’s bedchamber.
    She drew in a slow breath, aching at what he was thinking, even though for the last three years she was the one who’d encouraged him and everyone else into believing her actions were self-serving.
    Not even her father and Symon knew the complete truth of her private arrangements with Frasyer.
    “We need to hurry,” she urged.
    “Aye,” he drawled, his burr rich with sarcasm. “I have no desire to remain in your lover’s chamber longer than necessary.”
    With a heavy heart, she followed him inside. As with the adjoining chamber, wax candles fragmented the blackness of the chamber, framing within their tainted glow the massive bed centered against the back wall.
    A bed Duncan believed she warmed.
    Isabel tried not to focus on the large bed. Or on how the thick posts arched upward in a magnificent display, each adorned by swaths of crème linen that connected and curtained the massive oak frame.
    In horrific fascination, her gaze was reluctantly drawn past the golden ties that secured the yards of the finely woven material and offered a blatant view of Frasyer’s intimate domain.
    Bile rose in her throat at the notion of sharing such luxury with a man she despised.
    Duncan walked past, his face carved with an ominous frown.
    She tensed. Please let him credit her nerves to his believing she found embarrassment in his being in Frasyer’s bedchamber. She forced herself to browse the room as if not awed by the magnificence of the plastered walls, each adorned with wall hangings of painted wool. Or how she was humbled by the intricate biblical paintings gracing the ceiling.
    At the sound of muted voices from the corridor, Duncan glanced toward her. “Where do you think he hid the Bible?”
    She shot a glance toward the door. “I do not know,” she whispered back. “Upon our return, I was immediately taken to the dungeon.”
    “Does he have a secret room off his chamber?”
    “I…”
    A muscle worked in his jaw. “Well?”
    “I am not sure.”
    With a curse, he strode to the nearest chest. “For a woman who frequents Frasyer’s private chamber, you seem to know little of his habits.” Duncan dug through a stack of finely woven silks of magnificent reds, greens, and even the coveted blue of royalty.
    Her heart pounded as she moved to kneel before another of several chests within the room. She prayed they would find the Bible soon. The longer they remained, the greater the risk of Duncan learning the truth.
    Or of them being caught.
    Isabel opened the lid. Wrapped within cloths, the pungent scent of ginger, cinnamon, and several other spices reached her.
    “Is it there?” Duncan asked.
    She shook her head as she closed the lid. “No.”
    He moved to another chest. A creak sounded at her side as he opened the top. “I have an idea. Where does Frasyer keep his jewels?”
    “His jewels?” She frowned as she turned toward him. “You are not going to rob him are you?”
    Duncan gave a rude snort. “I want nothing of his.” His emphasis on the word nothing struck clear to her heart. “I asked where he kept his jewels, because he would perhaps keep the Bible in a place where he stows his most prized possessions.”
    “We need to keep looking.”
    Duncan stared at her in disbelief. At her silence, his face darkened with temper.
    “I am trying to help.”
    “Are you?” he demanded. “After three years as his mistress, you expect me to believe that you do not even know where Frasyer keeps his jewels?”
    “There were many things I was not privileged to know.”
    Duncan shot a cold look at the bed. “For the length of time you have lived here, one would think you would know where Frasyer would keep his every article of clothing, along with those things he coveted. Or perhaps, like me, he has learned