MURDER AT THE MAJESTIC HOTEL Copyright © 2022 Clare McKenna, Excerpt with Permission from Kensington   Stella rested her cheek against the pillow as Lyndy traced the length of her neck with hot, gentle kisses. She shifted to capture his lips with her own, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him to her. She couldn’t get close enough. “Bugger off the pair of ya!” A door slammed, and someone began pounding on it from outside in the hall. The hostility jolted Stella upright. Flashes of her father’s temper flooded her with emotions she hadn’t had to face in days—grief, guilt, fear. But Lyndy’s warmth as he wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders, pulling her protectively to him, eased it all away. “Horace, please,” a woman’s voice pleaded. “We need to speak with you.” “Confound it, Uncle, what’s going on?” a man’s voice demanded. The pounding continued. “Bloody hell,” Lyndy whispered as he flung the bedclothes off. For a moment, the sight of his skin, the well-formed muscles in his back glistening with sweat in the glow of the fire, made her forget there was an altercation taking place a few feet from their door. Then curiosity overcame…