Falling for the Highland Rogue

by Ann Lethbridge

  He sank down into a chair, his gaze scanning her face, the fingers of his right hand clenching and flexing. ‘I was beginning to think you’d forgotten who keeps the wolf from your door.’ He gave her a very wolf-like smile. ‘I was thinking of sending you back to Miss Lucy’s.’

  The brothel. ‘I’d sooner starve.’

  ‘I can arrange for you to get your wish.’

  He would, too. See her back in the brothel, or starving on the streets. They’d argued before, about small things, little bits of dignity she needed to keep herself sane, and sometimes he’d let her have her way. But she’d never stood against him about something he really wanted. Something he’d eventually get, with her help or without. ‘Will you promise me he’ll come to no harm?’

  Jack’s fingers stilled. ‘Bargaining with me, is it? He won’t want you when it’s over.’

  ‘Kind of you to tell me something I already know.’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, colleen, sometimes you surprise me. All right. Have it your way, if you’re fond of the lad. I’ve no particular beef with him—besides that, he’s as slippery as an eel. I pay you nothing and he gets away with a whole skin. I hope he’s worth it.’

  She’d just given away a great deal of money. The pain at her temples intensified. She was a fool. And there was no guarantee Jack would keep his word. He might, if it suited him. And right now she didn’t see any alternative. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘When are ye seeing him again?’ Jack asked.

  ‘On Friday. At the ball.’

  ‘Three days hence? He’ll scarcely remember your name by then.’

  She glared at him. ‘That I very much doubt. Besides, it is all arranged.’

  He grunted and picked up The Edinburgh Gazette from the side table and scanned the headlines. He leaned forwards to shed better light on the words. ‘Here. This is it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The King is to accept the keys to the Castle the day after tomorrow. There’s to be a procession. Tell Gilvry you want to see it.’

  More processions. She held back a groan. ‘I will send him a note, through his brother.’

  ‘Do that, pet.’ He stood up, leaning over her, the smell of whisky and smoke filling her nostrils as he gave her a narrow smile. ‘Take care of that headache of yours or you’ll be losing your looks. And what use will I have for ye then?’

  The threat sent spiders crawling down her spine.

  ‘Ah, puss, don’t look so worried. Can ye not tell it is jesting, I am? We make a very good team, you and I. Why spoil a good thing?’

  Fear tightened her chest at the possessive expression on his face. Thank heavens she’d never indicated by word or deed she was saving her money so she could leave. When she had enough, she would find a way to disappear.

  ‘I won’t let you down, Jack.’

  ‘See you don’t. And, Char, you will do whatever is required to pry the information loose, understand me. Anything at all. I suggest you bring him back here, once the procession is over. I’ll make myself conveniently scarce. A couple of days’ shooting on the moors should be more than enough time.’

  A chill breeze blew through the room, but not because of what he was asking, but because she wasn’t sure who would be the seducer and who the seduced.

  * * *

  Logan put down her note with a sense of relief. He’d half-thought she had decided to be done with him, after Niall had been so rude. He looked at Sanford. ‘Can you find me a good place from which to observe this damned parade this afternoon?’ He glanced out of the window. ‘Somewhere out of the rain.’

  Sanford put down his paper, picked up his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair, eyeing him with speculation. Lord, what a dandy the fellow was with red dragons writhing over his blue-silk dressing gown. A man needed blinders to face such a sight first thing in the morning. Logan tried not to blink.

  ‘Got you at her beck and call, has she?’ the young nobleman said languidly. ‘I didn’t think you were in the petticoat line. I thought you were having too much fun breaking the law.’

  ‘It is no’ about her.’

  ‘Really?’

  Disbelief in a single word. ‘O’Banyon keeps foisting her off on me.’

  ‘You can’t rescue her if she doesn’t want to be saved.’

  The sarcasm in the other man’s tone stung. ‘I’m no’ a fool. I’ll hold out a hand, but it is up to her whether she takes it or not.’

  Sanford shook his head wearily. ‘Determined to learn the hard way, are you? Her sort of women like their trade rough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, when she stomps her pretty feet all over your ego.’

  He couldn’t agree. The way she’d responded to his kiss told a different story. If she’d pushed him away afterwards, it was out fear, not lack of interest. He’d seen the hunted look in her gaze. The same look he’d seen on men’s faces when cornered by the militia. But he wasn’t entirely sure what she feared. If it was Jack, she hid it well.

  ‘So can you help me with this or not?’

  ‘It’s your skin. Yes. I’ll send word later.’ On that he got up and retired to his chamber. It would be four hours before he emerged from his toilette and headed out for his duties. In the meantime, Logan had a business to run. And Archie had sent word he was in need of another delivery. The trick would be keeping McKenzie and O’Banyon’s men looking the wrong way.

  * * *

  The spot Sanford had found for them had a view of the procession and the ceremony of the keys. Logan stared up at the castle wall where the King had stood in the rain and waved his hat to the people of Edinburgh. He had gone now and the people in the streets were dispersing. Seeking dryness and warmth. ‘Have you seen enough?’ he asked Charity.

  ‘It was quite a pageant,’ she said from beneath her umbrella. ‘I must thank you for changing your plans to bring me at such short notice.’

  ‘I had no plans, apart from wanting to see you again.’

  A startled look crossed her face. Almost dumbfounded. Good. He had decided that there was only one way to deal with Mrs Charity West. Absolute honesty. And while she was digesting that he would impart the rest. ‘I want to kiss you again and see if what I think happened at the inn was real, or merely a figment of my imagination.’

  ‘That is all you want?’ she asked, her eyes dark and full of heat.

  Anger or desire. He tossed a coin. ‘No,’ he said baldly. ‘I want more. A great deal more. But I am prepared to take it one step at a time. For a while at least.’

  The look she gave him was far from conciliatory. The shield wall was up and the spears were out. But he came from a long line of warriors and would not back away from a protest of a wee bit of a lass. Not until he knew for sure that she meant what she said.

  ‘You are a fool, Mr Gilvry.’

  A warning. But there was also a glimmer of laughter in her eyes, he thought. A good sign surely.

  ‘I am no’ asking anything of you, Mrs West. Except to invite you to accompany me to my brother Niall’s house for dinner.’

  Another look of surprise. Good. Many a battle was won by surprise. And he intended to scale the battlements and win the war.

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ she said. ‘Lord Aleyne made it quite clear he heartily disapproves of me.’

  ‘He does this for my sake. Because I asked him. And besides, Jenna is looking forward to meeting you again.’

  A look he could not read passed across her face. ‘I don’t know,’ she said with a tremor in her voice. She turned to head into the drawing room behind them. He had never seen her quite so flustered. He wanted to take her in his arms, soothe her ruffled feathers, but she would not thank him. Not yet. She was as skittish as the deer that roamed the hills. It would take time to convince her to trust that he meant her no harm. O’Banyon had done his job well.
And if she ever did, he would keep his wits sharp. Because he certainly wasn’t about to trust her. He could still remember how Maggie had smiled at him as she sat on his knee and giggled as if he was someone special. Pretending to be shy and modest, while all the time she was swiving his best friend.

  He’d almost paid for that piece of stupidity with a lifetime of misery with a woman for whom he had lost all respect. He certainly wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

  He led her down the stairs and into their carriage. Once safely ensconced inside, she sat twisting the strings of her reticule around her fingers. He took her hand and she looked into his face. Her eyes were dark, clouded.

  ‘Will you accept the invitation, then?’

  She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Clearly a decision made. ‘All right.’

  Now why did he have the feeling that was too easy? ‘You may say what you wish to me, but you will have a care with my sister-in-law, aye?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Why, Mr Gilvry, having second thoughts already?’

  ‘I am letting you know I am trusting you to behave like the lady I know you to be.’

  The surprise returned to her face and then she chuckled a little, her eyes full of genuine amusement. ‘You do like to live dangerously.’

  She certainly knew how to make him worry. Even so, he was looking forward to it.

  Chapter Eight

  The streets of New Town had a completely different atmosphere to its ancient neighbour, Charity noticed. Neat squares. Broad streets laid out in formal patterns, like the houses themselves. They pulled up at one such town house and Logan opened the door and leaped down.

  She took his hand and stepped down, looking about her. A prickling sensation stirred at the back of her neck and travelled down her shoulders. The sense of eyes watching. Eyes that would report back to Jack on her movements. Making sure she kept to her side of the bargain.

  Jack was leaving nothing to chance.

  The thought stopped her breath. Never before had she felt his distrust so strongly. Did he fear she’d betray him? What other instructions had Jack given her watchers? A cold dread solidified in the pit of her stomach. A knowledge that if she didn’t obtain the information he wanted tonight, Jack would take matters into his own hands and her bargain with him would no longer stand. He might decide to serve Logan some mischief as part of his price for her failure.

  He was probably wise. She really wished she had never set foot in Scotland. And hated the idea of getting close to Logan for such an underhanded purpose. But it was only information. Nothing dangerous.

  She swallowed and smiled at her escort. ‘Your brother must be very successful.’

  He glanced up at the house with pride in his face. ‘Aye, he is.’

  The door opened before they could knock. They were obviously expected. The footman who bowed them in took their outer raiment. She smoothed her skirts, hoping Logan would approve of her gown. The fichu in the neck provided a degree of modesty, as did the shawl over her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t worry to see us up, Morrison,’ Logan said. ‘I can find my way.’ He took her arm and they mounted the stairs to the first floor. A drawing-room door stood open in welcome.

  ‘Here we are,’ Logan sang out as they entered the elegant space.

  Blue walls, white paint, furniture upholstered in stripes and chintz. A place designed to impress, but also to welcome, Charity decided as the tall lean Baron Aleyne moved from his wife’s side to greet them.

  ‘Welcome to my home, Mrs West.’ His bow was formal and his expression cool, but not hostile.

  Relief allowed her to breathe again. ‘My lord.’ She dipped her curtsy.

  Aleyne stood aside and gestured to his wife seated on the sofa. ‘You know my wife, Lady Aleyne.’

  The Baroness held out a hand and Charity moved forwards to shake it. ‘How nice to meet you again, Lady Aleyne.’

  The small red-haired lady dimpled. ‘Why dear Mrs West, I am delighted Logan was able to persuade you to join us for a family dinner. We see so little of him when he is in Edinburgh. Please...’ she patted the sofa beside her ‘...do be seated.’

  Charity settled herself beside her hostess, the welcome warming her from the inside out. The warmth of family. Something she had not experienced in a very long time. Warmth to which she was not entitled. Something churned in her stomach: guilt. She should not have agreed to this, but, oh, how she had wanted to feel accepted. To be treated as if she belonged to this world again.

  Logan bowed over the small lady’s hand. On his face there was genuine affection. ‘I come as often as I can, Jenna,’ he said as he straightened. ‘You know full well the Laird keeps me busy with business.’

  ‘It is Rabbie who pines for you the most,’ his sister-in-law said with a smile. She turned to Jenna. ‘Rabbie is our son. Named for my father. He’s just passed his first birthday and is a very adventurous young man. Like his uncle.’ She gave Logan a roguish smile.

  ‘Now, Jenna,’ her husband said with obvious fondness in his smile, ‘there is nothing more dull than tales of other people’s children. You’ll have Mrs West yawning with fatigue before she has been here half an hour.’

  ‘No, indeed, Lady Aleyne,’ Charity said, amused by their banter. ‘I like children, I assure you, although they are very much a novelty in my life.’ She hesitated, realising how much of the truth she had spoken and how much of herself she had unconsciously revealed. She glanced at Logan, testing his reaction to such a revelation, but he did not seem to notice as he had picked up a book lying open on a table and was leafing through it with a crease between his brows. ‘Parliamentary Process? It sounds exciting.’

  ‘It is,’ his brother said, ‘if you are interested in creating laws and no’ breaking them. Can I offer you a glass of ratafia, Mrs West? Or perhaps you would prefer sherry.’

  ‘I’ll take a dram,’ Lady Aleyne said swiftly and smiled at Charity. ‘It is traditional in Scotland to welcome old friends and new with whisky. Do you like our national drink, Mrs West?’

  ‘It is certainly popular in London, my lady,’ Charity said, non-committally.

  Lady Aleyne laughed. ‘You are nearly as political as my husband. No need to haver, Mrs West. Please. I grew up on the stuff, but it is not to everyone’s taste. Feel free to state your preference.’

  Lady Aleyne was a breath of fresh air. Despite Charity’s desire not to encroach on their kindness, she felt drawn to the young woman. Had things been different, they might have been friends. But they were not. And really Logan had been wrong to bring her here. Lord Aleyne knew it, even if his wife did not.

  But she was here now and she could not very well throw their hospitality in their faces. If she walked out, she would no doubt burn her bridges with Logan. Not something that would serve her purpose. ‘Then I would love a dram,’ she said with a smile at the way the unfamiliar word felt on her tongue. ‘If it is from Dunross.’

  ‘Aye, it is,’ Lord Aleyne said. ‘No finer whisky in all of Scotland, even if I do say so myself.’

  She took her glass and, when they were all served, Aleyne offered a toast. ‘Family before all.’

  At her puzzled look, Lady Jenna explained. ‘It is our family motto.’

  Would that her family had a similar one. A sadness she had not felt for a long time dampened her spirits. Ridiculous. She had no room for regret, or patience for it either. It did not one scrap of good.

  They downed their drinks in one swallow. She did the same. The whisky was as smooth as hot silk sliding down her throat. Jack would be a fool to buy from McKenzie.

  ‘How long will you be in Edinburgh, Mrs West?’ Lord Aleyne asked, putting his glass down on the table beside the book. He sat down on the chair opposite, his gaze direct and thoughtful. Was he wondering how soon she would be gone from his bro
ther’s life?

  ‘I’m not sure, my lord.’

  ‘Did you come because of the King’s visit?’ Lady Aleyne enquired.

  She glanced up at Logan still standing, his body seeming too large, too full of energy for the cool quiet room, yet he did not look in the least uncomfortable. She turned back to Lady Aleyne. ‘The King’s visit was part of the reason.’

  ‘Your husband does not accompany you?’ Lady Aleyne asked.

  Charity suppressed a wince. ‘My husband passed away a long time ago.’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing,’ the baroness said. ‘I am so sorry. Do you have children?’

  An interview for the position of wife? A quake of shock shuddered in her bones. ‘No,’ she said weakly. ‘No children.’ From the look on the Baron’s face, he was not at all happy about this turn of the conversation, but was too polite to put a stop to it. As for Logan, he was watching her with interest, judging her reactions like a panther watching his prey.

  ‘Mrs West is here with a business associate looking into the purchase of Dunross whisky for a gentleman’s club in London,’ Logan said.

  Surprised by his intervention, she gave him a quick smile. ‘Le Chien Rouge,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you have heard of it, Lord Aleyne?’

  ‘It has been pointed out to me, Mrs West,’ the baron said in a tone that said he wished it had not.

  ‘How very interesting,’ Lady Aleyne said, her eyes bright. ‘I find a woman in business fascinating.’ She must have seen something in Charity’s expression, because she made a slight gesture with one hand. ‘No, truly. I have always held that a woman’s intellect is equal to a man’s.’

  Her husband gave her a rueful look. ‘It is a fact I would have trouble disputing, my love.’ He raised his glass in a small toast and there was deep affection in the couple’s exchange of glances.