Before Shane could ask what she meant by that, he found out. In a blur of movement, Abigail was in front of him, winding her arms around his neck. He felt the soft, round mounds of her breasts press against his chest and then she pulled his head down for a kiss. Her lips were warm and moist and pliant. He caught the light fragrance of her hair and the warm vanilla scent of her skin. He slipped his hands around her waist and his mouth covered hers, seeking more pressure. Abigail yielded immediately, parting her lips, inviting his tongue. With a sigh, he delved in to explore. She tasted slightly of ratifia and he wondered if she’d imbibed before coming to the bedchamber, and then rational thought left him as Abigail’s tongue darted into his mouth, challenging him for more. She moaned softly when he obliged. Without thinking, Shane slid his hands down, cupping her buttocks, pulling her closer until her every curve fit perfectly against him—
The knock on the door startled both of them. Shane quickly stepped back. By the Holy Rood! In another minute, he would have been grinding his aching cock against her, wanting more.
Abigail looked dazed and he hoped she wouldn’t swoon. She took a deep breath, seeming to recover and he went to the door.
Three grinning footmen stood there with six pails of hot water. The smirks quickly faded when Shane glared at them. “Fill the tub,” he said, “and then escort my wife downstairs.”
“But I—”
“Ye need to check on dinner. I find I am starving.”
Abigail frowned, clearly not sure how to interpret the sentence. Shane wasn’t sure either, but starving for Abigail was not what he needed to be thinking about doing. “Go on, lass.”
She didn’t look happy, but she left. Shane let out a shaky breath and leaned against the door. He had almost lost his iron-will control.
It must not happen again.
As Shane made quick work of the bath—he wasn’t really sure if Abigail would stay away and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she didn’t—he realized what must be done.
He would take his meals here but sleep on the ship. That way, there would be no more temptation.
Perhaps it was best that Fiona and Shauna were here after all. They could attest to no conjugal relationships, which would make the annulment that much easier.
“I doona ken what is wrong with that man,” Kyla commented as she helped Abigail dress the next morning. “Ye would think the ship’s business could wait on his first night home with ye and the family.”
“He did say the office was shorthanded with the new person still learning the books,” Abigail replied, although she silently agreed with the maid. However, Abigail also knew the real reason Shane had left after dinner last night. From the kiss they’d shared—gracious, she could only gulp in air when he’d released her—she also suspected he might have some experience. With kissing anyway. And, though her facts were sadly limited to what biology books had to say on reproduction, she was fairly sure the rigid hardness pressed against her hipbone yesterday had something to do with desire. Therefore, the logical conclusion was that her husband did find her somewhat attractive.
The action had certainly stimulated a slow, pulsating, mushy warmth in her private parts, not to mention how heavy and full her breasts had felt against his solid expanse of his chest. She wanted more. Much more.
Her other logical conclusion was that Shane MacLeod was the most stubborn, hard-headed, strong-willed man she had ever met.
Her parents had accused her of those same traits.
Her husband was a bit more wily than she’d thought, but it only increased her determination to wear him down. Abigail didn’t give a flying fig about remaining pure—especially since she had no intention of allowing the marriage to be annulled.
In this human game of chess, she was the queen. And the queen ultimately determined who would win the game.
Shane looked up from the office counter in surprise as Abigail strode in later that morning. Warily, he watched her movements for any hint of anger or hostility, but she seemed calm and composed as she approached, greeting both Albert and Richard in a friendly manner.
Not that he would blame her for being upset with him. Paperwork needing his immediate attention was a weak excuse. Shauna had looked skeptical and Fiona had narrowed her eyes. Even the twins had looked confused that he was leaving after the evening meal. Only Abigail had sat serenely at the table, a Mona Lisa smile on her lips.
Luscious lips. Compliant, willing lips. Soft lips he could still taste on his tongue. Abigail would never have survived the night with her virginity intact if he’d stayed.
Shane eyed Abigail again. The Mona Lisa smile was back. What was she up to?
“What are ye doing at the wharfs? ’Tis nae a place for a lady.”
“Oh, fiddle.” Abigail waved a hand airily. “Your office is nowhere near the dockworkers. I thought it a fine morning for a walkabout.”
“Ye walked? By yourself?”
“Of course not. Two of Ian’s footmen insisted on escorting me.”
At least someone had sense. The three men Ian had sent—George, Johnny and Jacob—all were highly skilled with both swords and dirks. “’Tis glad I am of that. Still, ’tis a far piece for ye to walk.”
“Nonsense. I have walked farther in London.”
Shane remembered all too well her tales of sneaking to the Thames dressed as a lad to see the boat races, which was probably why she had no aversion to coming to his office. “Ye must nae do this again. Ye have nae idea what danger lurks along the pier and amidst the cargo holds. You could be bumped into the water by careless crew.”
She gave him a look as though he had said something totally outrageous and completely insulting. “I can swim, although I have no plans of doing so. I simply intend to walk down here every morning.”
Shane stared at her, the hair at his nape beginning to rise. “There are many places ye can walk in Edinburgh. Why would ye want to come here?”
“If the mountain will not come—” Abigail paused, giving Shane a beguiling smile. “I will go to the mountain.” She set her reticule on the counter. “I will be working with you every day, learning the shipping business.”
Chapter Thirteen
Richard nearly dropped the heavy ledger he held in his hands. Had he heard correctly? The English bitch was going to start showing up at the docking office? The look of incredulousness on the bastard MacLeod’s face was nearly priceless.
Keeping his face impassive, Richard studiously went over an invoice that didn’t need anything added while he contemplated whether the woman’s decision would help or hinder him. If she proved a distraction for her husband, all the better.
For the past three weeks, ever since he’d been trained in how the books were set up, he’d been quietly siphoning off funds. Not enough to arouse any suspicion—just a few pounds here and there. At this time, creating a second set of hidden books was more of an experiment to see if his plan would go undetected. So far it had since Albert had been feeling poorly, thanks to the small amounts of powdered opium Richard had mixed with the cocoa powder Albert used for his morning chocolate.
“Ye are nae going to be working in my office,” Shane said to Abigail.
“You are quite right. I will be learning,” she replied. “I actually have quite a good head for figures.”
That could be a problem. Richard didn’t need anyone poking into invoice balances and profits.
“The docks are nae a place for my wife.”
“I agree,” Abigail said amiably, “but I will be in the office, not on the docks.”
“Do nae twist my words.”
“I do not intend to. I am simply pointing out that office skills do not require me to be doing any sort of manual labor, unless you count picking up a ledger. I would have no need to even set foot outside, except to walk home.”
“Nae!”
“Well, all right. I will take a hack home, if it pleases you better.”
“’Tis nae what I mean, and ye ken it.”
&
nbsp; Ignoring him, Abigail turned to Albert. “Since Shane’s cousins and sisters have come back with me, Janet could use your help until we find a full-time butler. If you would kindly teach me some of the basic procedures here, I am sure I could keep things flowing smoothly—with Mr. Reneau’s help, of course.”
“Of course, I would be happy to assist,” Richard said quietly, although his mind was whirling with possibilities. The English bitch could very well be playing right into his hands. If Albert were out of the picture—which Richard intended him to be, but this would be more efficient than increasing the amount of opium—Richard could start moving funds more quickly. Women were basically stupid, and he’d never known one who understood business. He could keep her attentions diverted on trivial paperwork and she would never catch on. “I am sure your wife would appreciate your help for a short while,” he said to Albert.
“Of course she would.” Abigail turned to Shane. “We do need a butler, but we have to take our time and be careful whom we hire. Albert would be perfect for the interim. Besides, George, Johnny and Jacob could use some male supervision.” She smiled at her husband. “We certainly do not want them getting into fisticuffs over Kyla.”
Shane narrowed his eyes as he studied his wife, and Richard wondered if there was something not being communicated. Interesting. Women liked to talk. Maybe he could find out what was going on at the house. One never knew when a seemingly innocuous tidbit might prove valuable.
“Ye might look for another maid,” Shane said and then turned to Albert. “How do ye feel about the matter?”
Albert looked uncomfortable. “I work for ye, Shane, although ’tis true, Janet is kept busy lately.”
Shane sighed. “I dinna wish to put an extra burden on Janet. If ye think ye can teach my wife enough to handle the paperwork—”
“Oh, he can,” Abigail interrupted. “I will not let either of you down.”
Shane settled stormy eyes on his wife. “Just the paperwork. I will nae have ye out and about. Is that clear?”
Abigail lifted her chin. “I do believe I understand.”
Richard cleared his throat. Perhaps it was time for a diversion. “I believe I have found another customer for you, sir.” He unfolded a document and laid it on the counter. “An acquaintance of mine would like a shipment of kelp delivered to Le Havre.”
Shane’s gaze sharpened. “Le Havre? Was that nae where ye worked?”
“Oui. I sent a letter once I secured this post. Mr. Padget had been receiving kelp from another supplier, but your prices are lower.” Richard assumed his most subservient posture. “I was hoping to increase your business.”
Shane picked up the order and looked it over. “I can probably have this ready within the week.”
“I am sure that would be fine. I will prepare the bill of lading.”
Shane nodded and took Abigail’s arm. “I am escorting ye home.”
“But I need to start work—learning.”
“Tomorrow will be soon enough. We have things to discuss.”
Richard refrained from gloating as they left. Things were falling into place quite nicely and he’d hardly had to lift a finger. In order to eliminate any doubts MacLeod might have—and Richard suspected he was suspicious—he’d set up the shipment for Le Havre. Fontaine would give him a glowing recommendation since Richard’s mother was the man’s mistress. More importantly, once trade had been established to that port, Richard’s less desirable acquaintances could arrange for contraband to be smuggled aboard at a later date.
Meanwhile, he would ferret out what information he could from the English bitch. Something did not seem quite right, and Richard would find out what it was. He would have to be careful she didn’t have access to the books though, because then things could get messy.
Very messy.
Shane sat at the desk in his library and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. By the saints. He felt like his ship had broached, rudder completely out of the water, sheets loose and sails flapping in the wind. If his contriving little wife came up with any more delusional plans, his mental ship would capsize.
The more Shane thought about it, the more absurd the whole idea of her working at the office became. He had allowed himself a moment of weakness back there that he was now trying to remedy.
Shane eyed Abigail sitting across from him, presumably undisturbed by his rant of the last ten minutes. Her tightly clenched hands were the only indication she had even heard him. She certainly had given no indication she was going to change her mind.
He tried once more. “Your father would call me out if he knew I allowed ye to work in a shipping office.”
She lifted her chin slightly. “I am a married woman. My father no longer has charge of me.”
Perhaps he hadn’t taken the smartest tack on the pitching sea of this argument. Abigail’s father was still a sore subject for her. “Fine then,” Shane said. “As your husband, I will nae allow it.” The words were no sooner spoken than Shane realized that wasn’t the best course to steer either. Abigail’s eyes flashed.
“Since you insist on being my husband in name only, I do not consider myself subject to your orders.”
Shane was ready to tear his hair out and he was beginning to understand why Jamie had grey strands. Abigail had cleverly turned the tables on him, using his own words. He certainly could not tell her how much he did desire her or how close he had come to losing his control when they’d kissed. Lord, even as angry as she was at the moment, Shane was tempted to round the desk, draw her from that chair and mold her body against his—to feel those plush, soft breasts against him while the rest of her body melded perfectly into his. How long would it take him to coax her to part her lips and let him taste her again?
“Why…why are you looking at me like that?” Abigail asked.
Shane started, hoping he had not been ogling her while lustful thoughts swirled through his confused brain. “Like what?”
Abigail shifted in her chair. “Like a predator about to stalk its prey.” Her eyes widened. “Are you that furious with me?”
Predator was an apt description, but not in the way she meant. For a moment, Shane was tempted to act angry, but he doubted it would do any good. He’d already voiced his displeasure. In any event, he did not want to scare his wife. “Nae, lass. I just want ye to see reason.”
“You think I am being unreasonable?”
The question was as loaded as a musket. Traces of Abigail’s somewhat strange behaviors of the past flitted through Shane’s mind. Did those oddities have to do with her reasoning ability? He could hardly accuse her of being unstable though, unless he wanted to invoke her complete wrath, which he did not want to do. “While rare, married women do sometimes take on endeavors beyond the household,” Shane began, hoping to divert her. “Perhaps ye could look into some charity work instead?”
“No.”
Abigail crossed her arms beneath her breasts, causing them to rise and distract him. Maybe the best way to end this argument would be to sweep her into his arms after all. Her breasts rose again with her breath and he wondered if his little vixen was doing it on purpose, but she appeared guileless. Actually, she looked quite irritated. Kissing was probably not on her mind at the moment. Shane redirected his wayward thoughts before he lost his reason. If he didn’t take command of himself, he would be foundering like a ship at sea without a compass.
“You promised,” she said, breaking into his thoughts.
“What?”
“You promised,” Abigail repeated. “You said I could learn the shipping business if I stayed in the office and did only the paperwork.”
“’Twas a lapse in good judgment, nae a vow.”
Her eyes became accusatory. “You told Albert he could help Janet. She is depending on you.”
Shane stared at her. His wee wife was no warrior, but her words cut through him like a razor-sharp sword. He may not have sworn an oath, like he had to her father, but she was right. He had given hi
s word to Albert. He must stand by it.
“We will try it for a week until I leave. That will give ye time to find a butler.”
“Perhaps.”
He ignored that. “And Jacob will accompany ye at all times.” Shane was not about to have her alone in an office with a stranger he still didn’t trust.
“As you wish.” Abigail smiled and rose, apparently allowing him some small portion of victory. “I shall look forward to it.”
Shane stared after her slender, retreating figure and then ran both hands through his hair. If this continued, Jamie wouldn’t be the only one concerned with grey hair.
“I think ’tis exciting that ye are going to be working,” Fiona said the next morning as they were finishing breakfast. “Women are just as smart as men.”
“She is only going to be helping with the paperwork until a butler can be found,” Shane said grumpily from his end of the table.
“Can we go too?” Caitlin asked.
“Oh, aye. Please, please, please,” Caylin pleaded.
Shane frowned at both of them. “Nae. Ye canna.”
“We never get to go anywhere,” Caitlin complained.
“We want to see Abigail’s office,” Caylin added.
“Nae. What part of the word do ye nae understand? Besides,” Shane answered and laid down his napkin, “Abigail doona have an office. She will be working at the counter.” He looked at Abigail as the twins broodily resumed eating. “Standing behind the counter all day.”
Abigail smiled sweetly at him. Shauna had warned her he’d be out of sorts about this and she had advised to ignore his sulking. “It really is very generous of you to allow Albert to help his wife with the chores until we find a butler. Janet is most appreciative.”
Shane grunted and stood. “If ye are going to work, ye should nae be late. I will meet ye in the hall in ten minutes.”
Her husband was still disgruntled when they reached the office a half hour later, but Abigail was not going to allow his mood to intrude on hers. Not only would she be learning something, putting her brain to use, but she’d be in Shane’s company. She would show him how much help she could be.
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