He still couldn’t quite believe that he had found a woman who had participated in his deepest, darkest fantasies. Had her enjoyment been real or out of gratitude?
Even as the thought flittered through his mind, he knew it wasn’t true. The blush on her face was not embarrassment. It was desire. For some unfathomable reason, the fates had sent him a woman who liked the opposite of what he liked.
He hardened. And inwardly cursed the thrum of hot blood in his veins. Even if it had been a long time since he’d been able to indulge in his particular vices and even if she was willing, he’d tormented her enough for one night.
They had important matters to see to tomorrow and they would both need their wits about them. ‘Come, sweetling. You need to eat.’
She blinked and then smiled. ‘I can’t believe how hungry I feel.’
‘It’s not surprising,’ he said, raising a brow. He picked up her robe from the floor and handed it to her, turning his back so she could slip out of bed and put it on.
He didn’t do it because he didn’t want to see her. He did it because he knew if he caught so much as a glimpse, she would never get as far as the table.
He pulled out a chair and she gave him a smile and sat down. ‘What have they sent up?’
It was a cold supper of the sort of plain fare Belle would have available to her customers downstairs. He’d partaken of it often enough in the past. Cold meats and haggis, fruit tart, bread and cheese and a flagon of small beer. They tucked in. He was glad to see that she ate heartily, though nowhere near as much as he, and when she was done she watched him finish his meal.
‘Do you really think your brother will help us?’ she asked when he, too, sat back with a sigh.
Of all of his brothers, Niall was the most likely not to toss him out on his ear. But if he did? What then? ‘Dinna worry. We’ll find someone else, if he cannot.’ There was something else troubling him. ‘I still do not see why Lady Cragg was so set against me.’
Rowena frowned. ‘I never heard her say any such thing.’
‘Did you no’ say that she told Mr Jones she would be glad to see me deported? That was why she had McKenzie’s men lying in wait for me when I left.’
‘Oh.’ Her eyes widened. ‘It wasn’t Lady Cragg talking to Mr Jones. It was a gentleman.’
‘The duke?’
She frowned, as if trying to recall something. ‘It could not have been the duke. Mr Jones called him my lord. Not your Grace.’
‘It might have been a slip of the tongue.’
‘Mr Jones does not seem the sort of man who would make such a mistake.’
‘Aye, but if it was no’ Lady Cragg or the duke, who the devil was it? What did he look like?’
‘I couldn’t see him very well, he was the other side of a very thick hedge. I had the sense he was an older gentleman, by his voice.’
‘If you heard that voice again, would you ken it?’
‘I believe so. The air was clear and their voices carried, farther than they might have guessed, I think.’
‘It is too bad I didn’t know this when I was a guest of McKenzie’s men,’ he mused. ‘Morris liked to talk. He might have told me.’ He frowned. ‘He did say something about me giving them the slip once before. I assumed he was talking about Logan.’
It couldn’t be Ian. Not if it was an older man. But someone working with Ian? Someone like...Carrick?
Not possible, surely?
But the men who had delivered Ian’s message had been Carrick’s men. And it was Carrick who had offered him a place in his American business.
‘What is it?’ Rowena asked. ‘You look worried.’
It surprised him that she could make out any expression at all on his face. It was as if she saw right past the ruined flesh and only saw the man behind it.
His heart gave an odd little lurch.
Now she was looking worried and he did not want her bothered by his musings, which had nothing to do with her problems. ‘No, not worried. Just thinking. Don’t be concerned about Niall. We’ll know very quickly if he will help us or no’. We have a great deal to do in the morning, I think it is time you went to bed.’
She looked down her nose at him. ‘I’ll decide for myself when I’m ready for bed.’
He let his glance slide to the chest standing on the table.
Her breath gave a little hitch. ‘Oh.’
He shook his head. ‘Much as I’d like to play some more, I need my sleep, even if you don’t.’
She went bright pink. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t wish to be disobliging, I just didn’t want you to think you could order me around.’ Her colour went brighter. ‘As a general rule, I mean. In the daytime.’
Heavens, she really was an absolute treasure. It was a shame he didn’t deserve her. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘You take the bed. I’ll take the floor.’
‘Oh, no. I wouldn’t hear of it. We will share.’
‘So you intend to boss me around, do you?’ he said with a teasing note in his voice.
‘Certainly not. I am just being sensible.’
‘Sensible. Aye. Then I’ll accept your kind offer.’
* * *
His hands were unsteady as he laced her stays. Eva had returned her clothes along with the water for washing. He was glad Rowena had her back to him right at that moment and could not see his reaction to touching her.
He wanted her again. And she had given him so much already. In his heart he knew he would never get enough of her, and it wasn’t right. Not when his future was so unsure.
‘Your brother is going to be very surprised to meet us, I think.’
Us.
His fingers stilled. He’d been alone for so long, fighting for his own survival, it came as a shock to think of himself as something more. He pulled at the laces and tied off the bow. ‘Aye. He’ll be surprised.’
She seemed satisfied with his answer.
He went to the mirror and tied his cravat while she put on her stockings. Such lovely long legs she had. He glanced at the tumbled bedclothes and then at the clock and wondered if there might be time...
A knock sounded at the door. ‘Who is it?’
‘Eva with your breakfast.’
‘I’m ravenous,’ Rowena said.
So was he. And not only for food. With a regretful sigh he went to the door and opened it. The young maid bustled in with a tray.
‘Madam Belle wants to know if you’ll be wanting this room tonight, as well?’
He glanced at Rowena and discovered she was looking towards the bed with what he could only describe as a hopeful expression. His groin tightened at the thought that she was actually looking forward to another night with him. It seemed so improbable that he would meet a woman, who on the outside seemed so self-assured, and yet who craved what gave him pleasure.
How wrong her husband had been to call her cold and reserved. She was a passionate delight who had somehow filled a very empty place in the deepest reaches of his soul.
‘Tell Belle, yes, if she can spare us the room.’
The maid whisked off. He seated Rowena and as she lowered herself on to the chair she looked up at him with a pink wash of colour. How could he ever have thought she was plain, seeing that blush over her pale-as-milk skin that covered every inch of her body?
She spread butter and jam on her toast. ‘We will go together to your brother’s office,’ she said in the decided way that she had. She used it to hide her uncertainty, he realised. Her fear of rejection.
Such a small insight into her vulnerability, but it made him feel suddenly protective.
‘We will,’ he agreed, selecting bread and slicing off a lump of cheese. ‘After all, this is your business. Not mine.’ His business was with Ian. The urgency to face his brother seemed to have faded. Because it would mean leaving Rowena and likely never seeing her again? He pushed the thought aside, unready to deal with that part of his future.
He had sworn to give her his aid and he would see it through t
o the end.
* * *
Breakfast over, they dressed for the chill of a winter morning in Edinburgh. He wrapped his muffler around his face. ‘No sense in setting the dogs to barking,’ he joked when he saw her watching him.
She shook her head. ‘I hardly notice the scar any longer. It’s your expressions I see. Your kindness.’
As he had suspected the previous evening, but to hear her say it made something hard and uncomfortable rise in his throat. He swallowed it down without examining the emotion at its source, though he had a feeling it was gratitude. He was grateful to her for so many things, it seemed. Would it give her some sort of power over him? Make him weak? He pushed the thought aside. ‘Let us go.’
They hurried down the back stairs and out the side door. He gestured for her to stay in the shadows while he took a quick look to see who was about on the street. There were the usual hawkers—the baker, the milkmaid, a girl with a basket of turnips—crying their wares. A dustcart rumbled by. No sign of the smugglers. ‘Gardy loo!’ He dodged back into the alley to avoid a stream of night soil from a front room of the brothel.
‘All seems well,’ he said, holding out his arm.
She took it. They walked briskly. Rapidly enough to show they had purpose, without looking hurried or anxious. At the corner of the street where Niall’s office was located, Drew stopped. ‘Let me make sure it is safe.’ He’d been both hunter and prey. He knew better than to be caught out in the open.
She nodded. He peered around the corner.
Drew had no trouble identifying the man standing on the opposite side of the street against the apothecary’s window. His friend from two nights ago. Morris. Cursing, Drew came back to Rowena.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘The smugglers are watching Niall’s office.’ And they could be watching the nearby streets, too.
He grabbed her hand and they ran, ducking into alleyways and doubling back. He didn’t stop moving until he was sure they weren’t being pursued.
Out of breath and panting, Rowena leaned against the wall. ‘Did they see you?’ she gasped.
He shook his head. ‘No.’ He was almost sure they had not.
‘What now?’
‘We could try his house...’
‘But they might be waiting there, too,’ she finished.
‘Aye. Likely. If they know of his office, they would easily discover where he is living.’
‘And we wouldn’t want to put his family in danger.’
How did she know what he was thinking at the same moment he thought it? He grinned at her, then realised that beneath his muffler she wouldn’t be able to see his expression. Probably just as well. Right now he was feeling a little too besotted for comfort.
‘Do you think we could ask him to visit us at the brothel?’ she said. ‘Send a note.’
‘We will send a note, but we’ll not meet him at Belle’s. We need to find somewhere we can be sure he isna’ followed.’
‘What about Waterloo Place at Regent Bridge?’
‘They finished it, then?’ It reminded him just how long he had been away. A painful reminder full of resentment that made his fists clench as he thought about Ian and his treachery.
‘There is a clear view in both directions,’ she said.
‘It sounds ideal.’
‘Is something wrong?’
Clearly the bitterness in his heart showed in his voice. ‘No. Nothing wrong. Let us go back to Belle’s and write the note.’
* * *
Despite Drew’s assurance that nothing was wrong, he’d left her at Madam Belle’s the moment his note to his brother had been dispatched. He had wanted to look at the place they had set for the meeting. And he’d wanted to go alone, leaving Rowena sitting on tenterhooks fearing he’d be caught.
The lad they had sent to his brother’s office was to wait for a reply. Given their fear of interception, Drew had kept the note very brief. It had talked about there being no need to climb the bridge to collect the eggs. It would, he had said, let his brother know who was seeking the meeting, but would mean nothing to anyone else.
A rap sounded on the door. ‘Who is it?’ she asked, having been warned by Drew not to open it to anyone unless she recognised the voice.
‘Me, ma’am. Nat.’ The errand boy.
She opened the door. The boy grinned and waved a piece of paper.
‘You saw him? Lord Aleyne?’
‘Not me. His clerk. He’d not be letting the likes of me near his lordship. But he did send a reply.’
Too bad Drew wasn’t here to receive it. Heavy footsteps on the stairs made her look up. It was Drew. ‘We have a reply,’ she said.
He took the note from the boy, gave him a coin and came inside and closed the door, tapping the note against his gloved palm.
‘Open it,’ she said. ‘If he says no, then we will find someone else to help us. My father had a lawyer. Mr Murchison. He might be willing to talk to us.’
Drew set the note on the table, removed his gloves, coat, hat and scarf. She wanted to shout at him, he was so deliberately slow. But she did not blame him. This was his brother from whom he was estranged. She sensed that if the note was a rejection he would take it hard.
He sat down on the bed and patted the place beside him. She joined him on the bed. Breath held, she watched him open the note. He handed it over without a glance at the contents.
‘Read it.’
So commanding. Pleasure unfurled low in her belly. She took it from him.
The hand was bold and black and the words brief.
‘“Logan, what game are you playing? If you are in trouble with the law or with McKenzie, I will have your head on a plate. Niall.”’
She wrinkled her nose and looked at Drew. ‘He didn’t know it was you.’
The muscles in his jaw flickered. ‘Perhaps it is just as well. If he had guessed it was me, he might not have replied.’
‘Oh, Drew,’ she said, feeling the hurt in his voice as a pang in her chest.
He squared his shoulders. ‘But he will come for Logan. So perhaps it is just as well he did not recognise my writing.’
‘He mentions McKenzie, too.’
‘Aye. God knows what Logan is about. He always was a wild scamp.’ He looked at the small clock on the mantel. ‘It is but a half hour to the time I set for the meeting. We had best get going.’
* * *
The clouds had rolled in over the city, grey and heavy with the threat of snow. People in the streets scurried head down about their business. To Rowena, everyone looked suspicious, but after a circuitous route, Drew stopped for a second.
‘No one is following. Unless they are very, very clever.’
She breathed a sigh of relief, trusting him to know and happy to leave such matters in his hands.
Finally, they were in sight of the bridge. Standing right at the centre was a young man in a dark coat and hat, pacing up and down and slapping his arms across his chest.
‘That’s him,’ Drew said, at the place where the bridge began to cross the old Calton Road. ‘Niall.’
She took his hand, as much for his comfort as for hers. He tucked it into the crook of his arm and patted it lightly.
Niall stopped his pacing and looked towards them. He was dark, not blonde like Drew. He took a step in their direction and then stopped, frowning, but he wasn’t looking at Drew, he was looking at her, and as they came closer his frown deepened.
‘What the devil is going on?’ he said as they came within earshot. His gaze dropped to where their arms linked. ‘Who is this?’
‘Is that a proper greeting for a brother you haven’t seen in six years?’
There was a careless drawl in his voice. A devil-may-care note she hadn’t heard before. His arm beneath her fingers had tensed. It was as rigid as a board. He was ready for his brother to turn away. Steeled against it.
Rowena could only watch as the other man peered into Drew’s eyes uncertainly.
D
rew pulled down the muffler.
Niall reared back. ‘What? Who? My God, Drew!’ he whispered. ‘Can it really be you?’
Drew nodded stiffly. ‘It is.’
Niall lunged forward, clutching his brother to his chest, then leaning back to look at his face. ‘We heard you were dead.’
‘Not yet,’ Drew said drily.
‘Hell’s teeth,’ he said, his eyes taking in the scar. ‘What happened? Why didn’t you come to the house? Why the strange message? I have been standing here for the past half hour, thinking Logan was in some sort of trouble. Just wait until Ian knows you have returned. And Mother.’
‘Mother is... She’s well?’ His voice sounded strained.
‘She’ll be all the better for seeing you.’
If Drew noticed the evasion, he didn’t mention it. He glanced around. ‘To tell you the truth, Niall, I am in a wee spot of trouble. Is there somewhere we can talk? Somewhere we won’t be seen?’
Niall stared at him, smiling, seemingly lost in some sort of reverie. ‘You have to meet my wife. And Ian’s Selina. And—’
‘Niall, we don’t have time. There are dangerous men—’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Damnation.’
Rowena followed the direction of his stare. Her heart sunk. Walking towards them was the man whose narrowed gaze focused only on them.
‘You were followed,’ Drew said. ‘My note said to take care no one followed you.’
‘Damn it, Drew. I bloody well did.’
‘There’s no time for this,’ Rowena said. ‘We can’t risk—’
The smuggler must have realised he had been spotted because he started to run, one hand tucked under his coat. Probably holding a pistol. Drew looked the other way and groaned. Another one was coming from the other direction.
‘There’s only one thing to do,’ Niall said. ‘Rush the man coming from the far side of the bridge.’
‘Come on, then,’ Drew said grimly. He took Rowena’s hand and she hoiked up her skirts in the other and they ran straight at the smuggler.
He must have thought they hadn’t seen him because he started to grin and unbuttoned his coat. Rowena could see the grip of a pistol sticking up from his waistband.
The Regency Season Page 42