“And you?”
“As I said, I shall wander about a bit more and see what I can discover. If anyone sees me, I’ll tell them the noise awoke me and I had to come see the madness for myself. Did you learn anything from our illustrious host?”
“Beyond what you heard in the library? Not really. Riding isn’t conducive to conversation.”
“Perhaps you can lure him into revealing more at dinner.” He turned the corner, where a large tapestry smoldered on a wall, footmen with buckets standing around. A large puddle of water pooled upon the floor, and he carefully led Moira around it and on to the stairs.
As they climbed the stairs, Moira said, “Robert, it might be useful if you have a headache this evening.”
“And excuse myself early?”
“Yes. If I can convince Ross that I must see his secret collection, and that I would find that very exciting, I think he’s fool enough to show it to me.”
“Why wait until dinner?”
“Because I think he will be more foolish after some port.”
“Ah. I will see to it that he imbibes more than his usual amount.”
“Good. Few men can refuse a true challenge.”
“Moira, I don’t like you spending too much time alone with Ross, so pray be cautious. He’s not a nice man.”
“Ah, but I’m not a nice woman.” Moira patted her skirt. “And I have my pistol.”
“You have it with you now?”
“I had a band made for the holster so I can strap it to my thigh.”
That made for an interesting image. “Very well. I’ll leave you alone with Ross after dinner, but only for an hour. I will be awaiting your return in your bedchamber.”
“Hopefully I will have something significant to tell you.” She smiled at him, and he was struck anew by the directness of her expression. She trusts me. The thought unexpectedly made his chest tighten in an odd way.
She paused by the steps that led to their bedchambers. “If all goes well this evening, I should have the necessary information to find the onyx box.”
He bowed. “Until later, madam.”
CHAPTER 18
A letter from Captain William Hurst to his sister Mary, sent today from Egypt.
Mary,
I hope this finds you well. I write to tell you that I have at last secured our brother’s freedom! Michael is resting comfortably upon my ship. He appears healthy, although he claims to have gained weight from too much rich food.
All is not well, though, as the sulfi who held Michael prisoner appears to have become enamored of Michael’s assistant, Miss Smythe-Haughton.
Michael refuses to leave without her, even though I pointed out the dangers. The box we gave the sulfi is not the original one, and it is only a matter of time before the deception is discovered.
If we see no progress in freeing Miss Smythe-Haughton within the next day or two, I shall forcibly bring William home. Personally, I don’t believe his assistant needs saving. From what William has told me about that redoubtable female, we should be more worried about the sulfi.
Because of the ruckus caused by Buffon’s carefully lit fires, Robert was able to wander freely about the castle for the next hour and a half until calmer heads prevailed and it was noted that none of the footmen were at their stations. Slowly, the hallways filled up once more with liveried men and Robert was forced to call off his search.
Later, while getting ready for dinner, he admitted to himself he was getting frustrated. That damned hiding place had to be in this castle and it had to be large enough to hold a number of artifacts . . . but where? He studied the map to no avail; the castle was too large to simply guess at a location. They needed more clues.
Soon, Buffon arrived, fresh cravats carefully folded over one arm. “Good evening, monsieur. I’ve ordered a bath. I thought you might need one after climbing under furniture all day and rolling about on the floor.”
“It was amazingly dust free.”
“I am not surprised. Sir Ross has far more servants than he needs. The number of chambermaids is astounding and many of them have nothing to do but talk, talk, talk.”
“Have you discovered any information yet?”
“I’m very close, monsieur. Very close.”
“I hope you discover something, for I’m at a loss. I’ve searched the obvious areas, with the exception of Ross’s bedchamber. That will be my next goal, though it will be quite difficult.” Robert sent a sharp glance at Buffon. “I shall reward you handsomely if you find any information leading to discovering that damned box. I’m certain Ross will try to pass a fake to us this evening.”
“If that barbarian is so bold as to attempt to cheat you, monsieur . . . Pah! The blood boils at the thought.”
“Yes, it does.” Robert’s blood boiled even more, thinking of Moira’s flirtation with the man. One way or another, it was time for this game to end. “By the way, you did an excellent job of providing distractions today.”
A pleased smile crossed Buffon’s face. “Oui, monsieur. I am quite good at distractions. It is my forte.”
“I shall have to increase your pay if you continue being so indispensible.”
“It is my job, monsieur. It is what Buffon does.”
It was difficult to stay discouraged in the face of Buffon’s confidence. The bath arrived shortly, and Robert washed and dressed for dinner, with the exception of his coat. After a brief tussle with Buffon over which robe he would wear, Robert sent the valet on his way and settled by the fireplace.
He wasn’t comfortable with the way Ross looked at Moira. It wasn’t a look one gave a woman one wished to conquer, but something more primal.
Robert didn’t like it. In fact, he hated it with a passion. Damn it, I need to regain my perspective. I’m here to get that damned box, and that’s all.
Still, he should remind Moira once again to be cautious around Ross. He was a very large, very powerful man. A mere pistol might not be enough.
Robert rose and turned the key in his lock, then he crossed to the window and pushed back the curtains. The wind had picked up as night had fallen, and gusts danced along the stone façade. It was pitch-black outside, although the courtyard far below was pooled in yellow, flickering light.
Robert pulled the collar of his robe a bit higher and opened the window, then stepped out onto the wide ledge. The wind tugged at his trousers and the folds of his robe. Placing his hands to either side of him, he edged along the ledge toward Moira’s room. Halfway there, the edge of his foot hit something. He paused to look down. The pale light from his window outlined one of the stone gargoyles, the little creature hunched in place, his face frozen in a mocking sneer.
Robert stepped over the creature and continued to Moira’s window. There, he peered through the crack in the curtain where he could plainly see a fat maid carrying Moira’s riding habit. With a deep curtsy, the woman said something in a low voice and then left.
As the door closed behind the maid, Robert pushed the window open and shoved back the curtains.
Moira whirled to face him. She was dressed in a gown of periwinkle blue decorated with knots of ribbons in dark blue and pale green. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Good God, you scared me.”
“I apologize. I wished to see you without our movements being reported.”
She ran to the door and turned the key in the lock. “How on earth did you get here?”
“By the ledge.”
“Good heavens!”
“I’ve walked a far narrower one before, and for far less reason.”
She laughed softly and came to him. “Why am I not surprised?” Her gaze took in his robe, and she touched one of the very slightly frayed cuffs. “I never thought to see you in anything so tattered.”
“It’s not tattered. My sister Triona bought this robe for me, and it’s very comfortable.” He took a seat by the fire and beckoned her over. “Buffon is coming back to assist me into my coat before dinner. I didn’t want it to wrinkle.�
�
Moira took the seat opposite his. “I’m glad you came to visit. In talking to my maid I’ve discovered a few interesting tidbits, though nothing that will assist us in our search, I fear.”
“Oh?”
“I asked if our host had ever been married, and I was informed that Ross was too busy to take a wife, though many of his neighbors had tried to fix his interest with their daughters. He rarely travels, spending time with his horses and his collections. He goes very few places and does very few things—he is a strange man.”
Robert considered this. “He is very strange, seducing every female who crosses his threshold. He certainly made sure your accommodations outshine mine. Perhaps, in his mind, he has been seducing you since you first arrived.”
“Are your accommodations so poor?”
“Compared to your suite, my bedchamber is little more than a closet.”
“That explains the quality robe, then.”
His gaze narrowed. “Let’s not bring my robe into this conversation.”
Moira fought a gurgle of laughter. “I suppose I could grow used to it.”
“Good—for I’ve every intention of seeing you wear it at some point.” His eyes darkened, and she grew breathless.
There was such a pull between them, a tug of like meeting like. She’d felt it from the first time she’d met him. She’d known he hadn’t believed she was a Russian princess, but to her surprise he hadn’t called her out. Later, it became apparent that he’d approached her merely because he’d been instructed to, but at the time, she’d foolishly allowed herself to think he’d been just as intrigued with her as she’d been with him.
The tug of camaraderie was still every bit as strong as that first meeting.
He was aware of it, too. It showed in the possessive way he looked at her. He caught her gaze now and gave her a dark smile. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable here.” He patted his knee.
If I sit on his lap, I may want to stay forever. “No, thank you. I have more room here.”
“That was the point.”
It was so tempting. She tingled just from remembering their tryst at the inn. I need to stop remembering that morning. I’ll just miss him all the more once this is done.
The thought caught her unprepared. The bald truth was that she would miss him—far more than she wished. “Robert, perhaps . . . perhaps we should keep this relationship professional.”
“Why? We haven’t done so yet.”
“We will be more effective.”
“I disagree. I think a full partnership is in order. After all, we are already parents. We share that much, at least.” Robert regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. All humor fled from her face and she winced as if struck.
Damn it, I am ten million times a fool. “Moira, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so lightly of Rowena. I wasn’t thinking.” He leaned forward and took her hands. “We will be partners however it is easiest for you. And we will never cease our efforts until we have her back.”
She managed a faint smile and gently withdrew her hands. “Thank you. That helps.” She brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen from its pin to caress her cheek. “The nights are the hardest. I wake up thinking about her, and it is impossible to go back to sleep.”
“Would it help to talk about her? Or would that make it worse?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had anyone to talk with.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I am curious about our daughter. I’ve never thought of myself as a parent.”
She gave him a twisted smile. “I never thought of myself as a mother until I was one, so I know what you mean. But now I can’t imagine my life without her.”
He nodded, noting how her eyes shone. “Is she a very quiet child?”
Her expression brightened. “Oh, no! She is so curious, always asking questions and—” Moira laughed. “She would drive me mad asking more and more questions, until sometimes I was ready to snap at her.”
He grinned. “Neither of us are shy or retiring.”
“Oh, but she’s not merely articulate. She loves a good argument, too, and adores horses more than—” Moira’s voice broke, as tears gathered.
“Oh, Moira. Don’t.” Robert pulled her onto his lap and tucked her against him, resting his chin on her head, wrapping his arms about her as she wept softly into the shoulder of his robe, clutching the collar.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he whispered against her silken hair. Over and over he murmured reassurances, promising they’d get Rowena back, that all would be well. Silently, he added that he would make certain George Aniston paid and paid for the pain he’d put them through.
He let her weep, running a soothing hand over her shoulders and back. Eventually her tears began to dry, and she finally subsided into a quiet sniffle.
She reached into her pocket and withdrew a handkerchief to wipe her tears. “I’m sorry. I think I’m fine with everything, and then this happens.”
“I shouldn’t have asked about her. I have the most damnable curiosity.”
“As does she.” Moira’s smile twisted. “It’s all right, Robert. Really. It’s good for me to talk about her. I just didn’t have anyone to speak to before, and I’m not used to it.”
“You don’t trust many people, do you?”
“Not where Rowena is concerned.”
He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. Her thick lashes were spiked by her tears. “If you decide that this is too much for you, just say the word and I’ll send you home. It may take me a day or two longer to get that box, but then I’ll join you and—”
“No! This is my fight, too.” Her jaw was set, her full mouth set.
She pushed herself away and tried to rise but Robert refused to let her go. “I rather like having you in my lap. I have very thin blood, you know. You keep me warm.”
Her lips quirked. “You do not have thin blood.”
“Fine, then. I’m a spoiled sophisticate who cannot hold a conversation with a beautiful woman unless I have my hands on her.”
She burst out laughing and relaxed against him. “You’re spoiled; that much is true.”
He grinned, glad to see the humor back in her eyes. “Now that we’re both comfortable, we should discuss this evening. I’m having qualms. Ross seems unstable. I worry that he might step over the line when I’m not there to protect you.”
She shrugged. “I have my pistol.”
“That’s not enough. I think we should cease attempting to woo Ross, and instead give Buffon time to work his magic. Someone in this castle has to know where that chamber is.”
“No, we must press every advantage we can. I know I can convince Ross to show me his collection if I just have a little more time.”
She looked so earnest that he could not refuse her. He rested his forehead against hers. “You’re set on this, are you?”
“Yes.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “You should return to your room and finish getting ready.” She placed her hands on his chest to sit upright, but he kept his arms about her.
It was so pleasant, snug by the fire in her room, her warm curves fitted against his lap. A moment of complete peace before they began their performance.
He’d never relished peace before, and if anyone had asked, he would have sworn that he would find it boring. But sitting here, with Moira wrapped in his arms, was anything but boring.
“Robert, my maid will return before long.”
“I know.” He sighed and released her.
She slipped her arms about his neck and gave him a quick, fierce hug.
He blinked in surprise but wrapped his arms back about her.
They stayed like that for a long moment, her face buried in his neck. But his body was awake now, and he had to fight the urge to press against her, to slip his hand beneath the blue silk and touch the warmth of her creamy skin, to—
Moira gave a heavy sigh, then rose from his lap. She caught sight of herself in
one of the large gilt mirrors and chuckled. “I’ll have to fix my hair again.”
Robert stood, too, glad that his robe covered his response to her. He went to the window and opened it, the swirl of wind hitting him and cooling his senses.
“I don’t like you using the ledge.”
“Don’t worry. The old oak beside Wythburn Vicarage was more dangerous. It was conveniently located outside my window. When my father thought I was studying the Iliad, I was actually riding across the moors.”
He stepped onto the ledge. “Shut the windows behind me, but do not latch them. I may need to return sometime.”
She came to stand by the large window and smiled up at him, looking absurdly young in her gown and piled-up hair. “Yes, sir. Is there anything else I should do for you?”
He smiled. “Nothing that we would want to finish in the few minutes we have left before our servants return. It is time to focus on our mission. Here’s to our success.” He winked and left.
CHAPTER 19
Michael Hurst’s diary, dated today
I am going to slowly throttle Miss Smythe-Haughton until she begs for mercy . . . right after I rescue her.
Dinner was finally over. Robert leaned back and lifted his monocle to observe the cherry tart that had been placed before him. He crinkled his nose and pushed the dish away. “Ross, thank you for an interesting dinner.”
“It was quite good, wasn’t it?” Moira said.
“It was interesting,” Robert repeated. He eyed his host, who sat at the head of the table. “I don’t wish to be rude, but the time has come to take possession of the box I purchased from you.”
Robert had done his part during dinner, slyly suggesting that Scotsmen couldn’t hold their drink, which had caused their host to imbibe what Moira suspected was much, much more port than he normally drank.
“We shall get to that presently.” Ross held up his empty glass. “Oh ho, another measure gone. And you, Mr. Hurst? Is your glass empty?”
“No, I fear not.” Robert examined Ross’s flushed face. “When may I have the box?”
A Most Dangerous Profession Page 17
