Tempting the Highland Spy

by Tara Kingston

  “There was no choice. I had to get him away from you. I could not take the shot when you were trapped so close to the line of fire.”

  “What you did was exceedingly brave. But I do pray you’ll never do anything so courageous again.”

  “With any luck, I won’t have to,” he said with a wry smile.

  “Did the agents find the dagger?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. But it’s here. Raibert wouldn’t have been in a panic when I suggested I’d taken it if he’d hidden it somewhere else.”

  “Where do you think it might be?”

  “Given the vastness of this structure and the grounds, there’s no telling where he stashed it.” His shoulders lifted and fell in a little shrug. “But we’ll find it. The agents will comb this place until they do. As Raibert’s lawful wife, Belle has given her permission for whatever inspection of the premises we deem necessary.”

  “Recovering that dagger will be a triumph for you.”

  He shrugged again. “I can’t say that I give a damn.” He drew her closer. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

  Dipping his head, he claimed her mouth in the sweetest of caresses. His kiss was tenderness and passion and love, blended in one delectable kiss. She’d never tire of the feel of that touch that spoke far louder than words.

  When he spoke, his voice was rough and husky with emotion. “I adore you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I’ve had my suspicions,” she said with a little smile.

  A cloud swept over his features. His expression shifted, suddenly somber.

  “Ah, Grace… Letting you go is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Reality rained down on Grace like a downpour she should have seen coming. She’d been a fool to give her heart to him, a fool to hope beyond hope that somehow, her time with him would not come to its inevitable, bitter end.

  Had she lied to herself? She’d wanted so desperately to believe her feelings for Harrison were mirrored in his own heart.

  Had she deceived herself merely to get through this mission?

  Why should this time be any different?

  She’d told so many lies. Small, harmless fibs. Other times, falsehoods had been far more consequential, lending her access to confidences and homes that otherwise would have been off-limits. For heaven’s sake, Belle still didn’t know Grace’s presence in Scotland had been connected with their mission. The heiress had risked her own life to save Grace, and Grace hadn’t even told her the truth.

  But she would. She’d come to care for Belle. The acquaintance that had started out as a ruse had evolved into a friendship.

  Would Belle turn against her when she learned the real story? It didn’t matter. She had to take that chance.

  Standing before Harrison, feeling the warmth of his arms around her, savoring the feel of his touch and the hunger in his eyes, Grace wanted to drink it all in. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, especially with something as inconvenient as the truth. Soon, an ocean would come between them.

  But they had this time. They had a few precious days before she’d board a steamer to take her home.

  Would loving him again ease the pain of the separation to come?

  Or would the longing only grow stronger, a craving she’d never entirely sate?

  Perhaps she should guard her heart. That would be the prudent thing to do.

  But then again, prudence was a highly overrated virtue.

  Pulling in a breath filled with his essence and the brisk notes of his soap, she looped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. Somehow, this kiss was different than his earlier caress. A current of sensation surged through her body, racing to every nerve in her body, stirring her need for him—for the pleasure of his touch—to a frenzy.

  He moaned her name against her mouth. With the tip of his tongue, he traced the seam of her lips, parting them gently. With a hunger that bordered on desperation, he claimed her, his tongue mating with hers, a delicate, passionate dance of sensation, delight, and need.

  Her fingers glided over his skin, parting his shirt, exploring the hard contours of his shoulders, drifting lower through the feathering of dark hair on his chest, so crisp against her fingertips.

  Molding her body to his length, she drank in his desire. Pleasure wafted through her.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me? Oh God, I need you, Grace.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I want you. More than you could ever know.”

  A rapping upon the door reached her ears. At first, he seemed inclined to ignore it, but Mrs. Carmichael’s voice followed the sharp taps.

  “Are you presentable, Dr. MacMasters?” she called.

  He edged back, putting a finger’s breadth between their bodies. The slightest of smiles played on his mouth.

  “Aren’t you going to answer her?” Grace whispered.

  “In due time.” He dipped his head and murmured against her ear. “We’re returning to Stirling this morning. Later, we can be together. We’ll have the night. Tell me you’ll come to me.”

  The passion in his low, raw tones unleashed a frisson to her core. “I’d like nothing more.”

  His smile broadened to a wicked grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “Dr. MacMasters. Are you in there?” Mrs. Carmichael was most definitely persistent.

  He stepped away from Grace. “The door is unlocked. Please come in.”

  Mrs. Carmichael swept into the room, her brows lifting as her gaze swept over Harrison’s scandalously unbuttoned shirt. The amused twitch of her lips betrayed her full understanding of Harrison’s delay in responding to her initial knock.

  “Mr. Royce has arrived to transport us to Stirling,” she said, sparing any comment on Harrison’s state of undress.

  Fergus. Oh, dear. Instinctively, Grace pressed a hand to her jaw as if to steady her teeth from rattling.

  Harrison’s fingers worked the buttons on his shirt. “Right on time, as always.”

  “I’ve asked the footman to bring Grace’s trunk and my own to the carriage. He’ll be back for yours in a few minutes.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he replied. “I’m fully capable of carrying my own.”

  “Very well. I’ll see you at the carriage.” She turned to Grace. “Miss Fairchild will be joining us. She’ll welcome your companionship.”

  “I do hope so.” Grace went to the door with Mrs. Carmichael.

  “With any luck, we will survive the journey,” the matron said cheerfully. “Despite the maniac at the reins.”

  They arrived at the same well-appointed hotel in Stirling they’d stayed in near the start of their investigation. The Kirkland House’s polished marble floors, pristine fixtures, and elegant furnishings were unchanged since they’d departed for Raibert’s estate. But in Grace’s eyes, something was different. During their first visit, uncertainty had created a sense of trepidation deep within her. She’d been unable to fully appreciate the beauty of the establishment. But now, with Harrison by her side, feeling the heat of his body as he lightly clasped her hand in his, the beauty of the setting washed over her, and she pondered the joy of this day and of the life ahead.

  They’d survived the mission. She’d succeeded in her task, and because of their efforts, Belle had escaped her husband’s ruthless plans. The heiress was heartsick, but she’d survive Raibert’s betrayal. She’d go forward with her life, and someday, her soul would heal from the damage he’d inflicted.

  And Grace would soon be free to return to America. She’d provide a good home for Aunt Thelma, and with her savings, she’d see to it that Clare finished her education. Her life would be modest and peaceful. She’d have everything she wanted.

  Save for one.

  She slanted Harrison a glance. Did he realize he’d captured her heart? Did he know she wanted him in her bed? Not just tonight.

  But every night for the rest of her li
fe.

  Her pulse sped at the thought. She was putting her heart at risk.

  But in truth, what choice did she have?

  She loved him. The truth was as undeniable as her need for air.

  As they’d done throughout the mission, they’d arranged for two rooms. Mrs. Carmichael was likely aware of the passion Grace had found in Harrison’s arms, but the older woman did not reveal her knowledge. She approached their routine of sharing a room just as they’d done days earlier.

  But tonight would be different.

  Tonight, Grace would not share a bed with the matron.

  She would savor every moment of this night in Harrison’s arms.

  …

  Seated at a table in a local pub, Harrison took in the scene. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been forced to kill a man to save Grace. Now, surrounded by good-natured chatter and smiling barmaids, he hoisted a stein to his mouth and took a gulp of cold ale. Life did indeed go on. But he doubted he’d ever be the same. Something in him had shifted—his priorities seemed clearer, his perception of justice not as black and white as it had been at the start of the mission.

  Across from him, Gerard took a drink from a frosted tankard. He’d announced his presence soon after Harrison had arrived at the hotel. His brother had returned to the city from Falkirk that morning after being notified of Raibert’s arrest, intent on assisting Harrison with the next steps in their plan. After the women were safely in Edinburgh, they’d return to the castle to recover the MacKendrick dagger.

  Harrison had already taken one crucial step toward concluding the mission. Upon their arrival in Stirling, he’d fired off a telegraph to Simon bearing a tersely worded message.

  She must be pardoned. Her aunt as well. I trust you will see to it.

  “’Tis only the fair thing,” Gerard agreed as they discussed the matter. “The lass put her life on the line.”

  Harrison downed a gulp of ale. “It’s the only decent course of action. Simon knows the right people. He’ll arrange the necessary documents for Grace and her aunt.”

  “And if he doesn’t secure the bluidy pardons, we’ll see them both on a ship heading across the Atlantic before the authorities can do a damned thing about it.”

  Leave it to his brother to get to the heart of the matter, Harrison thought with a smile. He’d be damned if he’d see Grace or her aunt behind bars. After risking her life in this investigation, she deserved a fresh start. Whatever it took, he’d see to it that Grace and her aunt never spent a day in prison.

  “Ye’ve taken a likin’ to her,” Gerard observed with a smile.

  God above, that was the understatement of the year.

  “Ah, admit it, brother,” Gerard went on. “Ye can scarcely take yer eyes off the lass.”

  “A man would have to be blind to be oblivious to her beauty.”

  “It’s not just her comely face that draws ye, Harry. I can see how ye look at her.”

  “Does it really matter? In a matter of days, she’ll be on her way back to America. One way or another.”

  “Ye should be at her side.” Gerard took another drink. “If she’ll have ye.”

  “It would never work. I’m needed here, in Scotland.” Harrison stared at the amber-hued liquid, focusing his thoughts. “I have my duty. I’m determined to find the sgian dubh.”

  “The agents and I can retrieve that knife.”

  Harrison cocked a brow. “I set out to find the dagger. And I intend to do so.”

  “And later, after ye can claim the recovery of the artifact? What’s to keep ye here then?”

  “Sooner or later, I need to return to Inverness. My medical practice—

  “Bah, that’s a paltry excuse if ever I’ve heard one. A man with your abilities can practice medicine anywhere. Have stethoscope, will travel, eh?”

  Harrison shot his brother a glare. Seeing Grace board a steamer bound for America would be hard enough as it was. Damned if he needed his brother spouting about possibilities he had no business considering. Between his responsibilities as a physician and his service to the Antiquities Guild, he could not see a way to leave it behind. For so long, he’d neglected his practice. It was time to put his priorities back into focus. His place was here, in the land of his birth.

  Just as Grace’s place was in America. She longed for home. He could see it in her eyes.

  Damned shame it would tear at his heart to see her go.

  Something about Grace chipped away at everything he’d once believed about life. When he was with her, she challenged his way of thinking, the pragmatic approach to life he’d adopted after his older brother’s death.

  They finished their drinks, and Gerard set off for a rendezvous with an agent in Falkirk. There was no time to waste if he was to make it to his destination before the sun went down.

  Returning to the hotel, he met Grace and Mrs. Carmichael for an early supper. Soon after they finished their meal, Mrs. Carmichael pled exhaustion and retired to her chamber.

  Alone—or so it felt, even though in the bustling dining room, they were surrounded by faces and sounds—he met Grace’s dark eyes, reading the questions there.

  “I haven’t changed my mind…about tonight,” she said in a near whisper.

  He heard the unspoken question in her voice, the twinge of hope and doubt. Fool that he was, he glanced away, stalling as he took another drink. Desire was transient and fleeting.

  Duty was not.

  Logic and his conscience demanded he make the right choice.

  But in all his years, he’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted Grace.

  Want. No, that isn’t right, he thought. The word was far too inadequate to express the longing in his heart. It didn’t even come close to describing the way he craved the sound of her gentle laughter and his hunger for her touch. When he held her in his arms and her eyes darkened with passion, the sight sated a need deep within him, a desire he’d never known to feel before he’d first laid eyes on her.

  If he had any sense left in his thick skull, he’d cast aside any notion of loving her again.

  Instead, he dipped his head, his lips nearly brushing hers. He was a fool. Of that, he had no doubt.

  But he craved her with a desperation that defied all logic, all reason. Like an addict yearning for the pipe, he needed her.

  “I’ll love you all night, Grace,” he murmured. “Tonight, you’ll be mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Harrison dimmed the gas lamp mounted on the wall. The light cast a soft glow over the chamber, gleaming softly against the shades of gold and red in Grace’s lush curls. Moving soundlessly over the rug, he came to where she stood, just beyond the connecting door.

  Unwilling to offend Mrs. Carmichael’s sense of propriety, she’d returned to their shared chamber, then waited for the matron to doze off before slipping through the door that joined the rooms. In the dim light, the deep blue silk of her wrapper looked like sapphires. An image of a gold band adorned with sapphires and diamonds flickered in his mind’s eye. He’d place the ring on the third finger of her left hand. He’d glance down at that symbol until the end of his days…

  God above, what had come over him? He banished the image and the preposterous thoughts to some dark corner of his mind. He didn’t have a lifetime with Grace.

  He had only this one last night.

  His conscience flared. If he was a true man of integrity, he’d face the inevitable and send her back to her chamber. Loving her tonight would only make the morning—and the reality it would bring—more difficult for both of them.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Her voice was whisper soft, her tone intriguing.

  “Do you now?” he asked, studying her.

  “You’re having doubts…about tonight…about us.”

  The image of the ring flashed back through his thoughts. “No—I don’t doubt that I want you more than I have any right to.”

  She came to him, pressing her satin-smooth palm
to his cheek. “I want you, Harrison. More than you can imagine. This is not a surrender. Far from it.”

  Standing on the tips of her toes, she brushed a kiss over his mouth. Featherlight. And more seductive than the boldest of caresses.

  Letting out a breath, he took her in his arms. As if with a will of their own, his fingers laced through the long, fine curls of her hair.

  He was mesmerized by her. By the silken texture of her locks. By the light scent of lavender that filled his senses. By the feel of her lips against his.

  Somehow, everything was new to him. Different, in a way he couldn’t begin to explain. He, who prided himself on his glib command of the English language, could not put his feelings into words.

  He framed her face in his hands, drinking her in. God above, she was beautiful. Never in his wildest, most decadent dreams had he imagined he’d have a woman like Grace in his arms.

  In his bed.

  The most tempting of smiles curved her rose-tinted mouth. Unable to hold back any longer, he kissed her, a leisurely possession. Savoring the taste of her lips. Savoring this moment.

  Savoring her.

  Her hands went to the tie on the wrapper and cast it aside. With a shrug, she shed the garment. It pooled on the carpet around her slippered feet, and she took a step back.

  He swept his gaze over her. Unlike the first time they’d shared a bed together during this mission, not a trace of flannelette was in sight. No, the well-worn, heavily mended nightdress she’d worn throughout their journey had been left behind. Tonight, she wore a filmy gown of delicate white fabric trimmed with tiny ribbon roses and lace. Where had she obtained the not-quite-sheer garment?

  Not that it mattered what she wore, he thought with a smile. Her smile had been as alluring as a siren’s song, even in a gown so modest, he hadn’t glimpsed even a trace of skin below her neck. Truth be told, in an old gunny sack with holes cut out for her head and arms, Grace would still be the most tempting woman he’d ever seen.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, a heartbeat before he kissed her again.

  When their lips parted, she reached for him. Her fingertips danced over his skin. A small smile played on her lips as she appeared to explore the contrasts between the male and female form. Her fingers grazed the line of his shoulders, gliding lower over his skin, lightly slipping through the hair on his chest. He held himself very still, allowing her time to learn the texture of his skin and the contours of his body.