Rooney reached forward with her cup as if to place it on the table and knocked into the woman’s elbow. “Oh, no! Do pardon me.” Rooney lifted her hand to the woman’s neck. Her fingers brushed the cold stones. She drew back. “I apologize.”
The rose turned to her and blinked. “Think nothing of it. We’re entitled to a fumble after indulging on the McLendon’s wine.” She tipped said contents into her mouth and smiled. “My, my, what red hair you have. Oh! It’s part of your costume. How delightful to find a red fox among us.”
If ye only knew. Rooney forced a smile. “Be careful, the Fox is cunning.”
The woman laughed, the diamonds twinkling at her throat. “Charming. Utterly charming.” Grasping her partner’s wing, she pulled him to the middle of the dancers and swung into an off-rhythm reel.
Rooney twisted her hands together. What was wrong with her? She never hesitated. The setup had been perfect, and at the last second, her conscience decided it was high time to prick her. She reached back and tugged at the strings tying her mask.
A hand closed around hers. “Careful now. Wouldna want to give away yer identity.”
Rooney spun around to find her conscience standing behind her. “Deven. I—I didna expect to see ye at the party.”
“I fought alongside the McLendon chieftain during the Rising. It would be an insult to refuse his invitation.” Deven wore head-to-toe black with thick gold embroidery spiraling across his chest and down the sides of his breeks. It was the first time Rooney had seen him without a kilt, and she didn’t much care for it. A black cape hung from his shoulders, and a simple cloth of black covered his eyes. Darkly dangerous. And standing much too close.
Rooney took a step back as the air thickened between them.
“Would ye care to dance?” Deven held his hand out.
She forced her gaze from the fingers she knew would curl around hers like a glove. A distraction if there ever was one. “Surely there are other ladies here more suited to accompany ye in the skirl.”
“I dinna want another lady. I want ye.”
Rooney ducked her head, away from those penetrating gray eyes. “Dancing skills … elude me.”
“I dinna believe that. Ye’ve the agility to dance around anything.” He tweaked one of the fox ears atop her head and trailed his fingers over her hair and down her arm to take her hand. “Dance with me, Rooney.”
She couldn’t stop him from pulling her along. Anything to linger in the warmth his touch brought.
The music slowed, and the men and women split into two separate lines. Dryness coated Rooney’s mouth as Deven took his place opposite her at the end of the lines. At the far end, couples began to twirl. She should never have agreed to this. Light on her feet up a tree was one thing, but precise steps in pinched shoes was another. Before she knew it, Deven beckoned her forward into a spin. He moved as if on glass and she a reflection of his guidance.
“Ye look bonny tonight. Only fox I’ve seen.”
Rooney swallowed and tried not to think about her feet. “Corsen means fox.”
“Does it now?”
“My father used to call us his wee fox cubs.” Deven took her hand and placed it on his shoulder as they twirled around another couple.
It felt right to be in his arms as if she belonged there all along. She could spend a lifetime there and never want to leave. A sparkle drew her gaze to the brooch attached to Deven’s shoulder. The rubies glowed like dark wine. A thrill ran through her seeing it where it belonged. “Yer brooch. ’Tis been restored to ye.”
“Aye. Seems the Night Fox took pity on my plight.”
“Or didna realize its true value lay beyond a monetary price.”
Deven ran his hand along her arm. Rooney jolted at the sting of pain from her scratches. “Have I hurt ye?”
“’Tis not yer fault. A mere scratch from the woodpile.”
Deven’s arms circled her waist, drawing her closer. He bent his head and brushed his lips against her ear. “I ken it was ye, Night Fox.” Rooney yanked back, but Deven held her tight. His gaze hooked into the deepest part of her and forced her to stare into the pain of truth. “I ken it was ye, Rooney. All this time.”
His arms fell away. Rooney fled. From him, from the mockery of joyful music, and the glittering of jewels. She raced across the great hall and out a set of double doors onto a small balcony. It was a short drop to the ground below and only a few yards out to the protective cover of the woods. Hoisting her skirts, Rooney climbed onto the rail.
Knocking dancing couples out of the way, Deven sprinted after Rooney. She stood on the balcony rail, skirts bunched in her hands, and knees bending to jump. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off. “Not that easy, ye dinna.”
“Let me go.”
“Now that I’ve finally caught the elusive Night Fox? I think not.” She kicked the air, threatening to knock them sideways. Deven clenched her tighter. “Cease yer struggling. There’s no tree for ye to leap into.”
“I dinna always need a tree.”
“Aye, well, there isna carriages or windows about either.”
A half-hysterical laugh tumbled out of Rooney. “Of course, it would be ye to find me out. Ye with the eyes that miss nothing.”
Deven eased her to the ground though he kept his arms about her. Each curve fitting perfectly against him, warm and soft. “I missed the signs that were directly in front of me. Ye held me bewitched.”
Rooney inhaled sharply. She turned in his arms and fixed an unfathomable gaze of gold and green on him. His pulse pounded as he waited for her to speak. For two nights he’d not slept as every second of her lying betrayal stabbed him anew. Weakness had prowled him, taunting another failure to a con. Finally, as his blood cooled long enough to clear his mind, he realized Rooney was nothing like the man who’d tricked his father and taken the laird’s brooch. She was not a common criminal who deserved the pillory despite her wrongdoings. She deserved another chance. A chance from him for as improbable as it seemed, he’d fallen for a thief. And so, he waited for fate to decide their outcome.
Her head tilted. Moonlight slanted silver across her red mask. “What are ye going to do now? Turn me in?”
“Nay. I’m going to marry ye.” The words echoed in his head, their meaning pounding louder and stronger until he could no longer deny the truth in them. More solid than any conviction he’d ever had, Rooney Corsen was his destiny.
Rooney jumped out of his arms, every line in her body rigid. “W—what did ye say?”
“I’m going to marry ye. No matter where ye hide or how far ye run, I’ll catch ye. As many times as need be until the only place left for ye to turn is to me.”
“I am a thief. I lie, cheat, and steal. Everything ye abhor.”
“As do ye. ’Tis why ye dinna take that woman’s bracelets tonight. Was the perfect opportunity, and ye decided not to at the last.”
“How did ye ken?”
“I’ve watched ye since the moment ye stepped into the hall.”
She clenched her hands together. “I dinna wish to be here, but there are reasons ye canna understand.”
“Rose and Ruby.” He longed to reach for her, to reassure her that she could trust him, but he stood still. Waiting. “Will ye not confide in me?”
“I do it all for them. My sisters deserve a life beyond what we’ve fallen to. I hate what I do. The only comfort is kening I take from those less likely to notice a few stolen coins and jewels.” She ran an agitated hand through her hair, springing loose curls in every direction. “Tonight’s earnings would have provided enough so that I never have to steal again. When the time came … I couldna go through with it. ’Tis yer fault.” She glared at him.
“Mine?”
“Seems my conscience takes ye into consideration now. Little good it does me.”
“Give up the Fox. Yer sisters can live with us at Strathmoore.” Reaching behind her head, he untied the strings of her mask and tossed it off the balcony. “Ye need never
more wear the mask.”
Rooney laughed, a mirthless sound in sharp contrast to her spirit. “Simple as that? Ye, whose ingrained principles could rival an exasperating saint, can ignore everything I’ve done these past years. Why? Pity for my plight?”
“Because ye’re the only woman to challenge me to be a different man. A man beyond rigid rules with the capability of understanding the fallacies of people and not judging them on it.”
“I never wanted ye to be different.”
“Aye, and that’s what challenges me to be better.” Stepping closer, Deven traced a finger over the satiny curve of her cheek as the weight of truth lifted its burden. “Return all of the items and—”
“I canna. I’ve traded most of them for coin. My exchanger is not in the business of extending refunds.”
Deven pinched the bridge of his nose. “On the black market, was it?”
Rooney nodded. “I ken well what ye’re thinking, but I’ll not allow ye anywhere near that depravity. Not after what it’s cost ye in dealing with thieves.” She touched his brooch.
Deven closed his hand over hers and squeezed. “I’m already involved and plan to be for yer entire future.”
She pulled back, the defiant mask slipping into place once more. “Ye dinna understand what’s at stake. I canna and willna marry ye.”
“There isna one good reason ye can give me that—”
“She’s going to marry me.” Sir Leslie stood in the doorway wearing a mask of glittering gold. “I appreciate it if you did not squire away my betrothed to darkened corners. I will be forced to defend her reputation.”
Deven moved in front of Rooney. “The irony in that comment is a long way from threatening.”
Sir Leslie’s thin nostrils flared white. “Come, Rooney. The evening is young with many guests to attend to. We wish for tonight to be a success, do we not? Remember our deal, my dear.”
It hit Deven like a punch to the gut. Of course. He spun to Rooney. “How long has he been blackmailing ye?”
Sir Leslie hissed. “That is a dangerous accusation.”
Deven ignored him, locking his attention on Rooney. “Desperation breeds dealings with the devil. Even so far to agree to unholy matrimony.”
Fear sprang to her eyes. “Ye dinna understand.”
“Oh, I think I do. Ye’ve agreed to marry this snake in exchange for expunging yer debts. Yet ye still feel the need to find payment, hence tonight. Which can only mean a loophole to this farce of a match. Full payment or a wedding band.” The rage that should have flooded Deven drowned in sorrow. “Why dinna ye come to me?”
Rooney shook her head. “Not every problem is yers to repair, Deven. The wrongs are mine. I must be the one to right them. A thief ruined yer life. I willna be responsible for that again.”
“That choice no longer belongs to ye.” Grasping her shoulders, Deven pulled Rooney to him and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, more one to prove a point, but the instant his lips touched hers Deven knew there was no going back. She’d claimed his heart, and he had no intention of taking it back.
Sir Leslie screeched behind them. “How dare you put hands on my wife?”
Rooney pulled back, gaze crackling with ice as she stared at Sir Leslie. “I am not yer wife. Nor will I ever be. Tonight my debt is settled.”
“As if you could have succeeded in paying me back or continued to afford rent once I raised the price. I razed that eyesore to the ground months ago just as I’m doing with the surrounding crofts that supported it to make ways for sheep pastures.”
Rooney’s mouth dropped open. “Ye lied to me. All this time. Ye made me believe—”
“You didn’t think I would actually allow you to succeed tonight? I told you that you were meant to be my wife one way or another. Now I have you.” Sir Leslie swerved around Deven and grabbed Rooney by the arm, yanking her toward the door. Rooney cried out as she dug her heels into the stone.
Fury boiled Deven’s blood as he dropped his hand to his sword. “The Stirrling Stone.”
Sir Leslie stopped dead cold. “What did you say?”
“The great diamond of the Stirrling family. Surely ye’ve heard of it. It shines like a thousand stars with a wee notch at the top where it once dangled from a chain. None other like it in Scotland, or all of Great Britain for that matter. It went missing twenty-five years ago. Rumored to have floated on the black market before a wealthy lord snatched it for his own collection.” Deven smiled as panic suffused Sir Leslie’s face. “I took the liberty of examining yer diamond and found an exact notch at the top. D’ye care to explain how the Stirrling’s family stone came to be in yer possession?”
“The diamond is mine.”
“Ye’re a crook, though I willna wish to be in yer shoes when the Stirrlings find out. They’re not a forgiving lot.”
Sir Leslie sneered. “You tell anyone and I’ll not hesitate to lead her straight to the hangman. Your darling Night Fox.”
Deven kept his hand relaxed despite the urge to run his blade through the man. “Night Fox? Her? A slip of a lass climbing into windows. Holding men at gunpoint. Look at her. She couldna lift a pistol much less ken how to fire one. The Fox is canny and prevails in feats too grand for a woman.”
“It’s her. She knows where my silver hairpins are kept.”
“A set of missing hairpins were reported last year in London around the same time ye journeyed there for the House of Lords session. More dealings on the black market.”
“No one will believe you. I am a lord, recognized by His Majesty King George.”
“Ye can make such claims before the magistrate. Guards.” Three armed guards of the McLendon stepped onto the balcony and took hold of Sir Leslie. “Thank ye for the confession.”
Face paling, Sir Leslie sputtered curses. “Rooney Corsen! She’s the Night Fox! Arrest her.”
Sir Leslie’s shouts died as the guards hauled him away. Silence descended, cloaking Deven and Rooney in uncertainty. Rooney moved to the railing.
“Yer costume needs imagination.” Her voice shook. “If ye’re to dress as a magistrate, ye need the curly wig.”
“Dinna care for wigs. I thought this would suit well enough.”
“In an ironic twist.”
Deven eyed Rooney’s fox tail as he joined her at the rail. “Ye above all people should approve.”
Her gaze slanted to him. “I’m in yer debt for what ye’ve done, but I willna marry ye.”
“Nay? Ye think to find another man so understanding of yer light-fingered habits?”
“Habits? Ye’ve done more lying tonight than I have the entire time playing the Fox.”
“Every bit about Sir Leslie was the truth. Law University did help me sort the criminals from the more or less innocent.”
Rooney snorted. “Now ye call me innocent.”
“Certainly not. Ye’ll have to return everything to its proper owners.”
“Impossible. Some of those trinkets I took years ago. The man I sell them to for coin doesna keep his stock for long.”
“Aye, but ye forget I’m well adapted at tracking items down.” Deven moved his hand closer to hers, brushing against her little finger.
“My family home. Everything I promised my sisters. Gone.” Rooney pummeled the rail. “That lying, two-faced, conniving, sneaking, wretched excuse for a rat!” Tears fell down her face in silvery tracks. “I’ve risked my life, broken morals, and committed sins to bring back what was rightfully ours. My soul has been blackened for nothing.”
Her pain seeped into Deven until all he could think about was removing her from it. He took her hands in his. “I’m sorry for the home ye’ve lost, but if it’s a place full of love that ye long for, then I can promise ye that and a lifetime more with me.”
Tears studded her long lashes as she looked at him. “I’m not worthy of yer love. I’ve nothing to offer ye.”
“There is but one thing I seek from ye. Yer heart. Any other offering pales in comparison and is of no
use to me.”
“What about my past?”
“Yer past belongs to yesterday. Yer tomorrows are my privilege.”
What seemed a thousand lifetimes hung in the ensuing silence as she looked him over head to toe. Her gaze settled on his face, and her full lips curved up at the corner. “I’ve one request.”
The ticking seconds warred against Deven’s sanity. “D’ye drive me mad on purpose?”
She wiped away a tear and smiled fully. “A carriage ride. I’ve spent more time on the roof than properly inside, and Helen Logan claims ye to be quite the charming companion to ride with.”
Deven’s pent-up breath rushed out in relief. “Taking advice from her now, are ye?”
“She shouldna enjoy an experience that ye’re not willing to share with me.”
“There are many experiences I’d like to share with ye and no one else.” He reached for Rooney, eager to taste her wild sweetness once more. “Come here to me, my wee fox.”
Laughing, she slipped nimbly from his reach. “The Fox isna so easily caught. No matter how charming the captor.”
Pinning her against the rail, he brushed kisses over her forehead, nose, and each cheek. She smelled of heather and grass and Rooney. A lifetime would not be enough of her. “I told ye once before that I will catch ye, no matter how far ye run or how long it takes, for ye’re the fox who has stolen my heart.”
“A thievery I’m not the least bit repentant of.” Rooney wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss him.
“Neither am I.”
A big huge thank you to Linda, Pegg, and the whole team at LPC for believing in me and making this the best story it can be. And for thinking of me when it came time to write a story about Scotland. That’s probably the biggest compliment I can get. My dear friend Kim, who spent hours and hours drumming up a plot with me when the only inkling of an idea I had was a lady thief, I owe you a big heart-shaped box full of chocolate caramels. To my amazing husband who seems to enjoy this wild adventure we call life together and has yet to call me crazy for living in my imagination. Destiny is all.
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