Her eyes widened a fraction at the title. He felt a rush of pride for his brother. Niall was making a name for himself in Scotland’s capital. He’d a growing clientele and he and his wife were accepted by Scottish society. He had already bought a grander house in New Town and was talking of renovating the mansion at his wife’s country estate. Niall’s reputation was one of the reasons Ian was anxious that Logan avoid trouble with the authorities. ‘The porter will know where to find him.’
She gave him a kittenish look. ‘I can’t contact you directly?’
He did not trust that look one little bit. It offered honey and kisses and smelled of a trap. ‘I am no’ sure where I’ll be from one day to the next.’
Her expression didn’t change, but he knew she wasn’t pleased by his evasion.
He bid her farewell and left, before he did something stupid like changing his mind and following her up to her chamber.
* * *
To Charity’s surprise, Jack was waiting for her in their private parlour, sitting in the chair by the window looking down into the street. He looked over his shoulder at her entry. ‘I thought you planned to be gone for a few days?’
‘Did you have a fine time with yon sprig of Scottish manhood?’
An innocent enough question, but there was nothing innocent about any word Jack spoke. ‘We saw the King land.’
‘And?’
‘We went for a drive along the shore.’
The expression on his face shifted almost imperceptibly. Imperceptible to anyone else. He had something on his mind. ‘You are back earlier than I expected.’
Her heart racing, she untied the ribbons of her bonnet and lifted it carefully from her head so as not to disturb the curls beneath. She tossed it on a side table and stretched her neck, easing the tension. ‘He had another engagement.’ She sat down on the sofa.
Jack eyed her narrowly for a moment, then pushed to his feet. He drew closer, looming over her. ‘You were supposed to keep him busy all day.’
‘I cannot force him to remain at my side.’
He glared down at her. ‘So what did you do?’
What on earth was going on? ‘We talked. We drove. We took tea at an alehouse along the shore.’
‘What did you talk about?’
She shrugged. ‘Things. Life. The weather.’
‘Did he tell you where he stays?’
‘No. He made a point of indicating you should contact him through his brother’s law office.’
Jack went to the window and glanced down into the street. ‘I’ll put Growler on it.’
‘Jack, be careful. He has friends in high places. Today, he had a pass for seats reserved for important people.’
‘What friends?’
‘I didn’t ask, but I think it might be Lord Sanford. They were together at the inn that first night.’
Jack’s mouth tightened. ‘Sanford has the reputation of a rakehell.’ He frowned. ‘He came to the Rouge, but only once.’
‘Perhaps he didn’t find it to his noble taste.’
Undisturbed by her jibe, Jack chuckled. ‘We offer something to suit all tastes. Ring for tea, would you, girl?’
Girl. Was she now his servant? Perhaps he was punishing her for not falling into bed with Logan and keeping him busy all afternoon. It would be like him. Gritting her teeth, she crossed the room and tugged at the bell.
He gestured for her to sit on the sofa. ‘It is haggard you look. Was he so hard to handle?’
‘How charming you can be, Jack.’ She was tired. With the strain of being with him. Of keeping her façade tightly wrapped. Until today, she had thought it a second skin. Part of who she was. But there were chinks in her armour. Big ones.
She worked her glove off her fingers, watching her busy hands. ‘No difficulty at all.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I did learn one thing. They employ some sort of trick to make their still appear to be legal.’
His eyes sharpened. ‘What sort of trick?’
‘He didn’t give me details. Likely he thought I wouldn’t understand, since I am playing the simpering fool.’
He gave a grunt. Not a pleased grunt, but not an angry one either. ‘It seems you made more of an impression than I thought.’
Relief flooded her at his words of faint praise. She hated that he could make her feel that way. ‘I told you, I know what I am doing.’
‘I want you to find out more.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. I want more information. I want to know the route he uses to take the contraband over the border. And where they keep the whisky before it leaves. McKenzie says it is not at the distillery.’
She frowned. Something had changed. ‘I am to act as a spy now? Who did you meet today, Jack? What is going on?’
He strolled back to the sofa, leaning over her to give the point of her chin a hard pinch. ‘Is that any of your business? Not fallin’ for his pretty face, are ye? Growler said ye were mighty close when ye left this morning.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She jerked her chin out of his grasp, but did not look away from that penetrating gaze. ‘I’m just not sure he trusts me that much. Do you expect him to draw me a map?’
Jack’s eyes narrowed. ‘I expect you to do as you’re told.’
She got up and paced in front of the hearth and then looked at him closely. She wasn’t the only one hiding things. ‘The whole idea of this trip was to make a deal with the Gilvrys.’
A wry smile twisted his lips. ‘I haven’t said I won’t. But from the things I’m hearing I am having second thoughts. I need information. And you are the one who can get it.’
They both knew what he meant. Bile rose in her throat. She paced away from him, pulling hard at her other glove. She dragged it off and balled it in her hand. Then spun around. ‘He invited us to dinner on Saturday. Us. Both, Jack. He’s no fool. He believes I am your woman. If you never come with me, he will suspect I am after something.’
Jack rubbed at his chin. ‘All right. I’ll be there. And I will use the chance to test his mettle.’
‘Jack, I don’t think—’
He grabbed her by the arm and pushed his face into hers. ‘You’ll do as I say. The lad’s too cocky by half. He needs to be taught a bit of respect for his betters.’
She gazed into Jack’s pale blue eyes, afraid to blink in case he thought she was hiding something. Afraid he might use his fists to make a point. Logan would have to look after himself, but she dreaded Saturday, knowing the sort of teaching games Jack enjoyed. Smart as he was, Logan Gilvry didn’t stand a chance.
She bent and picked up the glove she had dropped, smoothing the pair in her hand before placing them beside her bonnet. ‘I’ll let him know we accept his invitation.’ She suddenly felt weary and not a little fearful.
Chapter Six
Dinner at the Waterloo Hotel had gone well, Logan thought. While he had imbibed ale, and Charity nothing but a couple of glasses of burgundy, O’Banyon had downed glass after glass of whisky. And appeared none the worse for wear. The man had a cast-iron constitution. Or stomach, at any rate.
And the more he drank, the more unpleasant he had become to Charity.
The strain of not hitting the man had become a sharp pain at the base of Logan’s skull. The kind that makes your hands curl into weapons.
Right now the Irishman had one arm over her shoulder and his fingers rubbing along the rise of her breast where it disappeared beneath the edge of the blood-red gown. The gown that made her skin look bone-china white and skimmed the peaks of her breasts. One small downward move of that coarse blunt finger and every man in the place would be seeing her nipples.
They were all watching and hoping. Logan didn’t have to look about him to know. The atmosphere was charged with male interest. If i
t had a smell, it would be filling his nostrils. The way anger filled his gullet and made his hands clench with the urge to plunge his fist into the Irishman’s leering mouth.
Control. Breathe slow. He kept his gaze fixed on O’Banyon’s face and his expression all business. ‘Has the money you were expecting arrived from London?’
O’Banyon looked up from inspecting the flesh he was stroking. He shook his head slowly. Rather stupidly. ‘Not yet. Takes five days, the banker told me.’
‘But you have looked over the document I delivered to you earlier in the week.’
‘Sush as...’ O’Banyon slurred. He straightened in his chair, removing his hand from around Charity’s back and leaning forwards across the table from which all the dishes had been removed except his fifth glass of whisky and Charity and Logan’s coffee cups. ‘Such as it is.’
A waft of whisky-laden breath hit Logan in the face. He held his ground, indeed leaned closer. ‘You didna’ expect all the details before we have an agreement, did ye?’
A shift at the table beside them, caught in the corner of his eye. O’Banyon’s man making his presence known. A not-so-subtle display of power. Impatience grabbed Logan by the throat. ‘Are ye a man or a mouse? Call off your dog, O’Banyon, or this ends right now. We’ll find another partner in London.’
Charity stiffened. A quick glance showed the anxiety in her eyes. Damn. Clearly his words had somehow made her afraid. Would the Irishman take it out on her, if their deal fell apart? Blame her? He wasn’t a fool. He knew she was bait. Knew she was O’Banyon’s creature, but he hadn’t suspected she might be in physical danger. She’d seemed too resilient, from the first, far too cold and calculating to be anyone’s victim.
During their outing to watch the King land and later at the inn, she’d seemed much more vulnerable, almost fragile at times, as if she was held together with paper and string. Easily ripped apart. Or not. A cold mask had quickly descended after their kiss. If she was afraid, she hid it well.
Yet during the few days since that afternoon, the worry he sensed within her seemed to have increased. And it made that ache in his skull deepen.
O’Banyon jerked his chin in the direction of his man stationed at the next table. Growler. He had drunk nothing at all. The man rose and left, but Logan had no doubts that he would be waiting outside. He also suspected there was more than one of O’Banyon’s men lurking nearby. The rest of them were more discreet. Which didn’t mean Logan was happy about their presence. But he had made his point.
O’Banyon pulled out a cigar and Charity took it from him, cutting off the end with an expert snip with the shears she extracted from her reticule. A very personal service that riled Logan more than what had gone before.
‘You can’t smoke that,’ he said coldly.
Her brow went up. Other men were smoking cigars, that little flick said.
‘Not in the presence of a lady,’ he elaborated.
O’Banyon leered at Charity. ‘Lady, is it, colleen?’ His soft chuckle insulted the idea.
Logan wanted to hit him. Didn’t he know what he had in Charity? All right, so she wasn’t good society. Something had happened to her. But she was a lady for all that. ‘Well, O’Banyon, do we have a bargain or not?’
The Irishman shook his head slowly as if trying to clear the mist from his mind, but there was a gleam of cunning deep in those bleary eyes. He wasn’t as half-seas-over as he appeared. ‘Whist, man. Are you always in such a hurry?’ He put a hand on that delicate sloping shoulder. ‘Char, here, is enjoying her first visit to Scotland.’ The grip tightened. And though nothing showed on her face, Logan guessed she would have bruises from the pressure.
He held still, barely. Charity was this man’s woman. By her own choice. It was not up to him to object. Not when she accepted his touch without flinching. Perhaps she liked pain. He’d heard that some people did. But one flinch and he’d have the man by the throat.
Did she know what was in his mind? Was that why she held so still? So unmoved? So removed from all around her?
‘What is your point?’ He could not keep the growl from his voice.
O’Banyon didn’t appear to notice, but Charity’s eyes widened a fraction.
‘The point is, boyo,’ O’Banyon said, ‘you promised us a ball later in the week. If I seal our bargain today, I’ll have no reason to stay.’ He emptied his glass in one long swallow and anger flashed in his eyes. ‘And besides, I’m thinking I need to consider a counter-offer. You are far too expensive.’
Naturally. They weren’t going to start off low. Now they were talking. He settled more comfortably. ‘We take all the risks.’
‘I can get my whisky elsewhere.’
‘You can get gut rot anywhere.’
Charity’s lips twitched as if she wanted to smile. What? Did she think he didn’t know how to negotiate? He’d been doing this since he was eighteen. And doing it well. It wasn’t just the good whisky that made Dunross successful.
O’Banyon leaned back and looked around. ‘Are we done here?’
Logan narrowed his eyes. ‘We are just getting started.’
‘Aye. But I’ve a mind to rattle a dice box while we talk.’ He grinned at Charity. ‘What do you think, my darling?’
‘You know I hate listening to you talk business, Jack,’ she purred. ‘I could use a bit of excitement.’ She licked her ruby-red lips.
Logan tried not to notice his blood’s hot surge. ‘The Reiver, then?’
‘Aye, that’ll do.’ O’Banyon rose and helped Charity to her feet. ‘We’ll talk more there.’
A waiter rushed forwards with her wrap, much to the disappointment of the male occupants of the room. And Logan’s, if he was truthful as he followed them, gritting his teeth at Jack’s proprietary arm over her shoulder and his heavy lean.
One chance, one opportunity to pay the man back, without causing her a problem was all he needed.
He headed for the tavern-owner ostensibly to pay the bill. He’d already arranged for the chit to go to Niall’s house because he’d half-expected this tactic of O’Banyon’s. The Irishman wasn’t the first to try to get Logan drunk to gain an advantage and it seemed as if they were in for a long night. He just wished Charity wasn’t part of the ploy. Because she was. Of that he had no doubt.
Just as he knew that if he held out long enough, she would give Logan whatever he wanted. To get a deal. The idea sickened him even as his body tightened, his arousal making walking a less-than-pleasant experience.
Sometimes he agreed with his ancestors. A man was better off in a kilt.
He followed the innkeeper into the office, then with a wink and a coin in the other man’s palm, he slipped out through the kitchen door where Tammy was waiting to make his report on what he had learned about O’Banyon’s dealings with McKenzie.
* * *
‘Give it up, Jack. He’s on to you,’ Charity said in a low voice as they walked slowly up hill arm in arm in the warm dark to the Reiver, dallying to give Gilvry time to pay the shot and catch them up. The bonfire on Arthur’s Seat lit up the sky and all along the street windows were full of illuminations in praise of King George. A band of boys wove through the crowd with torches held high and on a corner a group of sailors were dancing a reel to the sound of bagpipes. Never had she seen a place so dazzling and full of celebration.
‘Hen-hearted, sweet?’ Jack breathed against her ear like a lover whispering tender words. ‘With your help it will be like robbing a blind man. Bait and switch, my darling.’
‘Has the whisky fogged your brain? If he catches you out, he’ll walk away. Is that what you want? Are you trying to drive him off?’ And if so, why?
‘Is it soft on him you are, giving him so much credit? And me none at all.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘He is nothing to me. But how will cheating him o
ut of a bit of gold help our cause?’
‘The wee lad needs a lesson in humility, so he does. He thinks he’s so damned clever. If at the end of the night he owes me a bit more than he can afford, then he’ll be easier to manage.’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘Not enough to put him in the poor house, mind, just enough for him to feel his obligation. To make him squirm at bit.’
Cold ran through her veins. Power. It was Jack’s thing. ‘I don’t think he cares about money. It’s all about family for him.’
Jack made a scoffing sound. ‘All men care about money.’
Let him think what he would, but she surely hated cheating. It went against everything she’d learned as a child. She could do it, of course. He’d trained her in the way of it at the club, but she never needed such a crude ploy. Not with the green’uns Jack usually marked for her plucking. ‘On your head be it.’
Jack smiled nastily. ‘Understand this—if I lose tonight, you will carry the debt in his place.’
Her stomach dropped. When Jack played deep, as he usually did, he risked more in a night than she could earn in five years. Was this his way of ensuring she could never leave him? Surely he hadn’t guessed her intention? She glared at him. ‘I’ll do my part, for half of what you win.’
A smile curled his thin lips and inside she cringed. Slowly, he nodded. ‘It is a bargain we have.’
The relief she expected from his capitulation was not forthcoming. Because she hated the idea of cheating Logan out of his money. Yet what choice did she have?
She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Logan approaching with long easy strides. She gave him a brilliant smile and he increased his pace. Behind him, one of Growler’s men detached from the shadows of an alley and followed at a distance. ‘Where’s Growler?’ she asked Jack in a low voice, aware of the sudden rapid beat of her heart.
‘Gone ahead. Why?’
‘No reason.’ No reason except that Growler’s man should have followed Logan out of that dining room and instead he’d been outside waiting. A laugh caught at her throat. A little gurgle of amusement she had trouble swallowing. He’d given Growler’s man the slip.
Falling for the Highland Rogue Page 9