A Most Dangerous Profession

by Karen Hawkins

  The intoxicating thought urged him on. Faster and faster he went, Moira’s lips parting, her breath quickening. His heart thundered, his body damp as he drove into her again and again.

  She suddenly arched under him, clutching his shoulders as she gasped his name, and Robert shuddered as a wave of heat tore through him. At the last second, he lifted himself free and rolled away as his passion spilled.

  The mind-numbing pleasure left him gasping for breath. Moira lay on her back next to him, her palm on his chest. He realized one of his hands rested on her thigh, which quivered beneath his fingers.

  Moira sighed deeply. “That was long overdue, my love.”

  “Yes.”

  They lay there as their breathing and their bodies slowly returned to normal. Robert couldn’t think of a moment when he’d felt more sated. The sun warmed them pleasantly as the comforting sounds of dishes being set out in the common room below drifted into their room. Moira’s lavender scent soothed him and he realized that if not for his concern for Rowena it would be easy to stay here and forget the world.

  But there was no forgetting Rowena.

  Moira evidently was thinking the same thing, for she rolled up on her elbow, her expression serious. “If we’re to present the façade of a married couple to Ross, then this sort of thing is a good idea.”

  He laughed. “You’re right.” With a playful kiss on her nose, he rose to fetch one of the cloths on the washstand. He cleaned himself, then wet a clean cloth for her.

  She thanked him while he went to pick up his clothes. “This cravat is ruined. Buffon will be devastated.”

  “I’m fairly certain my chemise will never be wearable again.”

  “Then we’re even. My cravat for your chemise.”

  “So long as it’s not your coat. I know how you prize them.” She tossed the cloth to the washstand, then sat up and pulled the sheet over her.

  “They are specially made and very expensive.” His eyes glinted with humor. “But if I had to make a choice between this and my best coats, the coats would lose.”

  “I’m glad to know I’m thought so highly of.” Moira pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I would give up at least two chemises for this.”

  He chuckled and began to dress. “We always were good together in bed.”

  “Yes, we match well on that level.” She pulled her knees up and clasped her arms about them, the sheet smooth over her skin.

  He watched her every move, his gaze still heated.

  Why, he’s thinking about coming back to bed. She scooted to one side, surprised at the way her body, which still hummed with pleasure, readied at the thought.

  A regretful look crossed his face as he picked up his trousers and pulled them on. “I wish I could spend the morning in bed, but the servants will bring your bath soon. I also have a few horses to sell before we leave.”

  “Oh?”

  “I returned Aniston’s men, but I kept his horses.” Robert’s smile glinted. “I hope he needs them badly.” He pulled on his boots and then his coat.

  She watched as he tossed the ruined cravat into a corner, then crossed to the wardrobe and removed his portmanteau to find another. His hair was mussed, his shirt open and loose, yet he still retained his air of fashion.

  It is the way he carries himself, as if he doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks. There is no more powerful force than true unconcern.

  He found a cravat and centered it about his neck, and then tied it with a few expert twists, securing it in place with a sapphire pin that matched his eyes. He tucked in his shirt, smoothed his waistcoat, and then ran his fingers through his dark hair.

  She was a bit disgruntled that he could go from disheveled to perfection in such little time. It would take her several hours just to dry her hair.

  He picked up his hat and opened the door. “I will return once I’ve seen to the sale of the horses. There’s a farmer nearby who the innkeeper believes is looking for some good stock, so I shouldn’t be long.”

  Moira leaned back against the pillows. “I shall enjoy my bath and then join you for lunch.”

  “Excellent.” With a bow and a smoldering look at her, he was gone.

  She listened to his booted feet go down the hall. Soon after, his deep voice rang through the courtyard as he called to his groom.

  Sighing, she snuggled into the pillows, her body aching pleasantly.

  Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but at least she was no longer fighting this battle alone.

  CHAPTER 13

  Michael Hurst’s diary, on hearing that his brother William is on his way.

  I received word that William is to arrive within the month to secure my release. It’s about bloody time. I’ve things to do, damn it!

  While my lodgings are luxurious, I’ve been forced to endure the constant company of Miss Smythe-Haughton, which—because of my lack of female companionship—has caused me some discomfort.

  Something rather odd happened last night. My assistant spent the afternoon in the harem, gathering information to help negotiate my release. Little did I know she was also using that time to learn the ways of the harem, including dressing in such a way that—well, I hardly know how to describe it.

  I did not appreciate the way the sulfi began to look at her when she appeared so attired, and I now worry that more trouble is on the way. While the sulfi may allow me to go free once the box has been delivered, I’m not certain he’ll do the same for Miss Smythe-Haughton.

  The coach hit a rut in the muddy road and Moira winced as her knee banged against the edge of the opposite seat. “Ow! I hope we arrive soon.”

  Robert planted a foot against the seat Moira occupied to steady himself. “We’re only a few miles from the inn where Ross said his agent would await me.”

  “Thank goodness. I’ll be black and blue if the road gets any worse.”

  As if Stewart could hear her, the coach slowed and the rocking subsided.

  Robert pushed back the leather curtain that covered the coach window. “The road is stone covered now and should be smoother.” He peered into the distance and said with satisfaction, “We’re beginning to climb, so we must be entering the mountains now.”

  Moira looked out the window, amazed at how the vista had changed over the last few hours. Instead of heather-covered moors, purple mountains rose before them, fronted by deep, green valleys with sparkling blue lochs. The road looked like a ribbon, twisting around each curve as it climbed. “I’ve never been this far north. Have you?”

  “No.”

  She nodded, lost in the beauty of the scenery. “It’s a different world from Craigentinny.”

  He lifted a brow. “Is that your home?”

  She shrugged and offered no more.

  “That’s hardly fair, seeing as how I’ve told you everything—including the time when I was stung by bees while trying to spy upon the neighbor’s charming daughter.”

  She laughed.

  “If I can tell you the most embarrassing of my childhood exploits for your merriment, the least you can do is share the mundane aspects of your own life.”

  Her lips twitched. “Fine. It’s not very interesting, though. When I found out I was with child, I purchased a small cottage in Craigentinny. It’s a pretty little hamlet an hour outside of Edinburgh.”

  “Why there?”

  “It’s close to where I was born, within a few miles of the mill my mother used to work at. It’s the closest thing I had to home.”

  “I see.”

  “The cottage I purchased has only five rooms, but it’s big enough for me and Rowena and a servant.”

  “It sounds snug.”

  A soft look crossed her face. “It is. Long ago, it was a hunting box for a local baron. There wasn’t even a roof on it when I bought it, just stone walls. But with the help of some local artisans, it’s now a very cozy little property.”

  Moira hadn’t allowed herself to think about Claigsmore Cottage in the six months since Rowena had
been stolen away; it hurt too much. But now, looking at the rolling land, it was hard not to think of her beloved home.

  “I planted a small orchard behind the house. We’ve apple trees and a garden. Rowena is excited when it’s time to harvest—” A crystal-clear image of Rowena holding up a large apple and laughing hit Moira like a punch. What if I never see her again? What if we don’t find the box? What if Aniston—

  She fought against the runaway thoughts, trying hard to recapture her control over her emotions.

  Robert watched as her lashes lowered to hide her expression, and he knew instantly what had happened. His throat tightened. He didn’t know what it was to love and then lose a child, but the expression on her face gave him a glimpse. “Moira, we will get her back. I swear it.”

  After a few more seconds, she gave a sharp nod. “I know we will.” The words sounded like a challenge.

  I need to give her something else to focus on. Robert crossed his arms and settled into his corner. “I do hope you’re able to stay focused on our task, and won’t be reduced to tears so often.”

  She stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

  “While I understand that you are upset, I hope it doesn’t infringe upon our project. Having no partner is better than having a distracted one.”

  “I promise you that I will keep my emotions well in check. I usually do.”

  “Sometimes . . .” He let the word trail off. “I’m sure you do the best you can.” He yawned. “I think I’ll take a nap. You should do the same.”

  He could hear the anger in her silence. Her skirts rustled and she said in a flat voice, “I’m glad you can be so unconcerned that you can sleep.”

  He covered his mouth and yawned again. “Oh, I’ll sleep well. Our little tryst this morning has left me a bit drained. I’m sure it made you feel the same.”

  Her cheeks pinkened, but she said in a stubborn tone, “Robert, we should discuss what we’re going to do once we meet Ross’s representative. If we wish to be a believable couple, then—”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. I’ll tell them I’m there to fetch the box and that I brought my wife with me, which isn’t unusual. Especially when they see that my wife is a beautiful, passionate redhead.” He reached up to tweak his curtain closed, and then tipped his hat brim over his face. “It’ll be as easy as that.”

  “But we must develop a history in case there are any questions.”

  “I don’t plan on offering any details to Ross, so we don’t need to discuss anything. I will do the talking, you will beam at me like a good wife, and all will be well.”

  Moira stiffened. “This is not how I define partnership.”

  “We’re partners, just not equal ones. Someone has to be in charge, and I’ve been very clear that it will be me.” He dropped his chin to his chest. “We only have a short while before we reach our destination. If you want a nap, you’d better take one now.”

  Moira glared at him. Did he really think she would sit back and allow him to boss her around? She’d thought she’d been very clear on that. “Robert, we have to—”

  He snored. And not a real snore, either, but a pretend snore. His arms remained firmly crossed over his chest, his mouth—when not snoring—was closed, and even bore a faint smile.

  Her brows lifted. He’d challenged her to give her something to think about other than Rowena. She didn’t need his assistance in keeping her emotions under control; she did that very well on her own.

  Her gaze narrowed at him. Yet for all of her irritation, she found herself admiring the cut of his jaw and the firm line of his mouth. A mouth that had recently driven her to distraction.

  But she wasn’t here to relive their interlude this morning. She glanced down at his riding boots, then placed one of her kid boots beside his large foot.

  He didn’t move, so she pressed her boot against the edge of his.

  Robert shifted slightly, and slid his foot away.

  Moira moved her foot against his again, and waited expectantly.

  Nothing happened.

  Well, that can be rectified. She lifted her foot over his and stomped.

  “Ow!” He jerked upright and glared. “Blast you!”

  “I wish to speak,” she said primly.

  “And I wish to sleep. You should do the same.”

  “I’m not sleepy.”

  He sighed. “Fine. What do you want to discuss?”

  “How will we present ourselves? We know Ross likes to pursue married women. Should we be one of those unconcerned sorts of couples, or would that not be enough of a challenge to him?” She tapped her finger on her knee. “We can’t be too obvious.”

  Robert shrugged. “I must take his measure. Then I’ll know how to proceed, and you can follow my lead.”

  “I am perfectly able to lead this scheme myself,” she said stiffly.

  Robert hid his smile, glad to see her sadness replaced by firm resolution. It had been torture to see her so sad, which was only natural. Any man would be upset at seeing a beautiful woman on the verge of tears. And after all, I was once wildly in love with her.

  The thought surprised him. Where did that come from? I was madly in lust, not love. It was no more than that.

  She sent him a glance from under her lashes and he was instantly on his guard. “There is one thing I’ve been wondering. Something you haven’t fully explained. In the beginning, you needed a specific onyx box to free your brother from his captor. But then things changed. Somehow you discovered that there were three such boxes, and now you want them all. Why is that? What is it about these three boxes that make them so valuable?”

  He adjusted his hat so that it would shade his eyes. Should I tell her? Can I really trust her? He wanted to tell her everything, only it wasn’t really his secret to share, but Michael’s.

  She fixed him with a firm stare. “We are partners.”

  He couldn’t deny her reasoning so he shrugged. “Fine. I will tell you. There are three boxes, and if you know how to unlock them they open flat.”

  “To make a panel?”

  “Exactly. And—when they are fitted together, they make a map.”

  Her eyes widened. “A treasure map?”

  “Yes.”

  “So Aniston must know about the map. That explains why he’s so determined to find it.”

  “He never mentioned a map to you?”

  “No. But I knew there had to be something very special about the first box that he sent me to fetch, so when I had it in my possession, I examined it. But I never saw anything resembling a map.”

  “You have to know precisely what you are doing in order to open one.”

  “Ah. What kind of treasure do you think the map will lead to?”

  Some part of him urged him on. If he wanted her to trust him, he had to show trust in her. “My brother Michael hopes that it will lead us to a lost family heirloom, the Hurst Amulet.”

  Her eyes lit with interest. “This just gets better and better.”

  “The amulet was in my family for centuries, until a member of the MacLean clan stole it and gifted it to Queen Elizabeth. She kept it for some years, but supposedly became fearful of its powers.”

  “An amulet with powers?” Her lips twitched. “You can’t believe that.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know what I believe. A telling number of people who came into contact with the amulet claimed that it had certain . . . abilities. Michael spent years researching it; he found many mentions of the amulet and its powers in old archives, even those in Elizabeth’s court.”

  “What special power does the amulet supposedly possess?”

  “Michael came upon one account where, at the queen’s insistence, one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting wore the amulet. Afterward, the lady claimed to see her own future.”

  “That’s too fantastical to believe.”

  “So I thought. She said that the amulet showed her whom she was to wed. Much to Queen Elizabeth’s ire, the lady-in-waiting eloped
with a courtier the very next day.”

  “She thought it would happen, so she made it so. There’s not much magic in that, is there?”

  Robert chuckled. “No, not when you put it that way.”

  Moira grinned back at him. “Since Elizabeth didn’t approve of the wedding, I take it that she didn’t care for the courtier, either?”

  “Quite the opposite: he was one of Elizabeth’s favorites, and she saw the elopement as an insult. She sent her guard to tear the lady-in-waiting from the arms of her new husband. Then she had them thrown into the tower for treason, and threatened them with beheading.”

  “Good God.”

  “One did not steal one of Elizabeth’s flirts without consequences. She was a very jealous queen. Perhaps it had something to do with the color of her hair, for they say redheads are very passionate.” He looked at Moira’s hair, the deep red free from the dark dye that had covered it. “I would vouch for that.”

  “They also say redheads freckle, and I never have. What happened to the star-crossed lovers? Did they languish in the tower and die in each other’s arms?”

  “Fortunately, the lady-in-waiting was already carrying her new husband’s child.”

  “That was quick.”

  He smiled. “Wasn’t it? Elizabeth wasn’t a monster and wouldn’t allow a child to be born in the tower. She released the unhappy couple but banished them from court. According to the records, they lived a long and happy life far from the queen’s attention.”

  “It that a true story?”

  “It’s well documented; Michael has the papers himself. But I don’t believe the amulet is magic. Perhaps it simply holds heat, or trembles. I once saw a crystal that did both.”

  “So Aniston is searching for a treasure map that might lead to the lost Hurst Amulet, which supposedly tells the future,” she mused. “Aniston’s had some financial troubles, and if he can convince others that the amulet is magical, he could name his price.”

  “No one would be so foolish,” Robert scoffed.

  “You’d be surprised,” she said drily. “There are many wealthy people who believe silly notions, including our king. George hasn’t been the same since his daughter, Princess Charlotte, died. They say he holds séances in an effort to contact her and has become the pawn of charlatans. He would be ripe plucking for a man like Aniston.”