"Io! I see I shall not be wanted, master!" she chuckled, and scuffled
away, her skinny shoulders shaking a half-suppressed merriment which
betrayed her thoughts more than words could have done.
Dread gripped Myra's heart as Don Carlos carried her into the bedroom
and set her down gently on the side of the bed. Every vestige of
colour had drained out of her lovely face and she was trembling
violently.
"Do not be afraid, Myra darling," Don Carlos murmured caressingly. "I
can be gentle as any woman, and would not harm my precious treasure.
Are you afraid that the sight of you will be so enticing to your lover
when he takes off your dressing-gown that he will not be able to tear
himself away from you?"
"Don Carlos, it isn't fair!" burst out Myra tremulously. "Please go!"
"Not until I have put my sweet baby to bed, tucked her in, and kissed
her good-night," said Don Carlos, and Myra knew that further protest
would be useless.
So she had, perforce, to submit to his taking off her dressing-gown,
and the glowing ardour and admiration in his dark eyes when she stood
before him clad only in her filmy, sleeveless "nightie" brought the hot
colour flooding back to her fair face again.
"Once before, Myra mia, I have seen you like this--on that night in
Scotland when I put my letter on your pillow," breathed Don Carlos.
"Surely you are the loveliest and most seductive woman in the world!"
He swept Myra into his arms again and kissed her repeatedly before at
last laying her down on the bed. In a sort of panic Myra slid herself
under the bedclothes and begged him breathlessly to leave her, but he
paid no heed. He bent over her, his dark eyes glowing like twin
flames, and laid his cheek against her own.
"Bid me stay, beloved," he whispered. "Give me the love for which my
whole being is craving. Bid me stay."