Falling for the Highland Rogue

by Ann Lethbridge

  Mrs West looked startled, then gave him the smile of a cat who had trapped a bird against a window. ‘Why, how very generous, Mr Gilvry.’ She turned to the seamstress. ‘I’ll have five pairs of stockings.’ Her almond-shaped eyes scanned the room. ‘And the painted fan I saw in the case as I came in. The one with views of the city.’ She raised a questioning brow in Logan’s direction. ‘If that is all right with you, Mr Gilvry?’

  It wasn’t really a question. He bowed. What else could he do? He just hoped the bargain he made with O’Banyon would make it worth the cost.

  ‘Then it seems we are done.’ She stepped down from the pedestal.

  ‘If you would care to disrobe behind the screen, Mrs West?’ the seamstress asked.

  Charity gave her the most charming of smiles and disappeared behind the screen with the assistant trailing behind her.

  More sounds of undressing. He forced himself not to imagine the scene.

  ‘This way if you please, sir,’ Mrs Donaldson said. ‘You can give me Mrs West’s direction and so forth while Aggie helps her dress.’

  * * *

  Trembling with shame, Charity could barely hold still while the maid fastened the buttons down the back of her gown.

  Never before had a man chosen her clothes. Not even Jack. All these years, she had managed to keep her pride, and then he came along and made her see what she had become. And what on earth was she doing talking about her father, when she hadn’t thought of him in years?

  And she’d thought him angelic? The man was the devil incarnate to make her feel so...so... She didn’t know how she felt. What was more, the rogue must have dressed a string of courtesans in his time to sit there with so much aplomb while she stood before him in her shift.

  Fury beat a drum at her temple. Anger that she’d not seen right through him, along with the disappointment that she had let her guard down. She didn’t care that he wasn’t the man she’d thought, just that he’d fooled her. It had to be the reason for the unpleasant sensation in her stomach.

  She put her hands on her hips and received a tut from the seamstress’s little assistant. She dropped her hands back to her sides. To think she’d felt sorry he found himself pitting his wits against the likes of Jack.

  ‘All done, ma’am,’ the girl said.

  Charity gave her a sweet smile, though her teeth was gritted so hard they hurt. ‘Thank you.’

  Smoothing her gloves, she strolled into the front of the shop. Mr Gilvry had a small bundle wrapped in brown paper and string hanging by a loop from a finger.

  ‘My purchases?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Donaldson thought you would want to take them with you.’

  The older woman gave a brisk nod. ‘I will have the gowns ready for the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘You will find me at the White Horse.’

  Mrs Donaldson looked down her thin pointy noise. ‘Aye. Mr Gilvry told me.’

  Mr Gilvry put a hand in the small of her back to usher her out. A light possessive touch. And far too intimate for a gentleman with a lady. She leaned a little too close and felt the hitch in his breath with a smile as the doorbell tinkled overhead.

  ‘Very successful, I’m thinking,’ he said, shielding her with the umbrella and his body from the wind and the rain.

  ‘Mmm,’ she murmured giving him an arch sideways glance. ‘Is there a cobbler nearby?’

  She could not help the little kick of triumph at the brief flash of dismay on his face. It restored her confidence no end.

  * * *

  Jack poured himself another coffee.

  ‘Where were you last night?’ Charity asked idly, trying not to look worried.

  He leered at her across the congealing remains of his breakfast. ‘Sampling the local fare.’

  From the look on his face he was not talking about food. So he’d not gone to the tables without her as she had suspected. She hated missing a chance to augment her funds, but she was glad he’d fed his other appetites. It made him less unpredictable.

  ‘You?’ he asked mildly, but his eyes were sharp and watchful.

  ‘Here. He dropped me off after I emptied his purse. He’d a dinner engagement with friends.’ Not surprisingly, she wasn’t invited. Nor had she asked him to come to her later. She could hardly tell Jack she hadn’t been sure he’d accept.

  Jack gave her a speculative look. ‘Losing your touch, dear heart? Perhaps you’ll have better luck with McKenzie.’

  Repressing the urge to shudder, she looked down her nose at him. ‘I know what I am doing. I hope to see him today.’

  ‘Did he say anything of interest?’

  ‘Interest in what regard?’ she asked cautiously.

  He pinched his lower lip between thumb and forefinger as he considered his reply. ‘About his business. About him. Anything of use in negotiations.’

  Things he could use to beat down the price. ‘He’s not flush with coin, yet he spends freely to impress. So this deal must be important.’ She took a breath, remembering how generous he’d been, with his coin and his protection. ‘He’s a man of his word. Not to mention stiff-necked. He has a brother here in town. A lawyer. That might be cause for concern.’

  He put down his cup and sat back with narrowed eyes. ‘You think they are desperate?’

  Trust Jack to focus on weakness. ‘Desperate? I’m not sure, I would go that far, but he seemed keen. He dropped a lot of blunt on me yesterday without a murmur.’ Or not much of one.

  Jack looked pleased and she felt the stiffness go out of her shoulders.

  ‘Did he talk about his business at all?’

  A trickle of something cold ran down her back. ‘No. I spent most of the afternoon with my clothes off. It wasn’t conducive to that kind of conversation.’

  ‘Conducive, is it? I suppose you had your hands full.’ He leered. ‘Or your mouth.’

  She restrained the urge to slap his smiling face. He liked to torment her with her failings as a harlot, yet make her feel like one. Bringing her down a peg or two, he called it. ‘We had tea, Jack.’

  ‘And you will see him later today?’

  She glanced out of the window. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained overcast. ‘If it stops raining.’

  Jack’s neck darkened with the blood of sudden anger. ‘Then you had better hope it does.’

  ‘Why so anxious? It is you who sounds desperate now.’

  ‘If it is any of your business, I want to be sure of where he is for an hour or two. McKenzie is introducing me to someone today. I don’t want the Gilvrys to know.’

  She opened her mouth to ask who, but Growler swaggered into the room with a note in his hand.

  Jack reached out to take it, but the ruffian avoided the blunt fingers and gave it to Charity.

  She shot Jack a look of triumph and broke the seal with her fruit knife. She hadn’t been sure, even after he paid for all those clothes, that she hadn’t pushed him too hard, hadn’t forced his eyes open just a little too much.

  He wasn’t the sort of man she usually toyed with. There was too much intelligence behind that pretty face.

  She scanned the note.

  ‘What does he say?’ Jack asked.

  She tossed the note across the table. It fell in the egg, the ink blurring. ‘He will pick us up here in one hour and take us to the docks at Leith. To see the King land.’

  Jack grinned. ‘I knew I could rely on you.’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘Remember that, Jack. I gather you don’t come with us?’

  He shook his head and stood up.

  ‘Will we go to the tables tonight?’ The tables was where she earned more than her keep.

  ‘Greedy wench.’

  ‘Jack?’ she warned.

  ‘No. I have other plans. I may
go out of town for a day or so.’

  ‘Days?’

  ‘I’ll leave Growler here, in case you need anything.’

  ‘To keep an eye on me, you mean.’ She couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from her tone.

  ‘You and him, too.’

  Gilvry, he meant. Jack trusted no one. Sometimes she wondered if he would even let her go when it was time, knowing what she did. Indeed, she feared he would not. Hence her contingency plan. Her secret bank account in a false name. It was nowhere near enough for her to live on yet.

  ‘He’s no threat to me, as far as I can see.’ She certainly didn’t want Growler and his bullies hurting him. Not unless he got out of hand.

  Jack pulled out his watch and glanced at it. ‘If you’ve only an hour, you best stir your stumps.’

  An hour. She put a hand to her hair still in its night-time plait. ‘You are right. I will want to look my best.’ She gave him her stock-in-trade smile and he nodded slowly.

  ‘Aye, colleen. That you do.’

  His hard-eyed smile said he’d make her pay, if Gilvry so much as strayed an inch from her side. Oddly enough, though, she was looking forward to spending more time in his company. He made her feel like a lady.

  The moment Logan saw her, he wanted to graze his fingertips across the delicious flesh rising above her gown and then taste it with his tongue. First however, he wanted to cover her from anyone else’s view.

  He took her hand and forced himself to keep his gaze on her face, but even then her sultry smile of greeting sent hot blood pounding in his groin. He raised a brow. ‘Where is O’Banyon?’

  ‘He has business elsewhere,’ she said in a low husky voice. ‘Would you prefer we did not go?’

  He’d like a bath full of cold water. ‘Not at all. I am sure he is a busy man.’ Busy avoiding Logan for some reason.

  Her head tipped on one side, her mysterious eyes gleamed like a cat’s about to pounce. ‘Didn’t you know? He expects me to exert my charm. To lure you into giving him a good bargain.’

  Honesty. Now that was a surprise. ‘I hadn’t guessed,’ he said drily.

  ‘Is it working?’

  There was such sly innocence in her face he couldn’t help it. He laughed. ‘Let us find out, shall we?’

  He was pleased to see that his answer turned her smile from sultry to genuine amusement. ‘I shall look forward to the discovery.’

  Heaven help him, he liked her when she smiled that way. And it wasn’t just lust. Lust he could handle, though he’d be hard pressed to keep his head if she kept up that smile. No, lust wasn’t the whole of what gripped him. It was the fear he saw behind the smile that made his hackles rise and fed the urge to keep her safe. Heaven help him. The last time he’d felt the need, a woman’s lies had almost ruined his life by trapping him in marriage. Seeing the kind of marriages his brothers had, had caused him to make very sure he wasn’t caught out again.

  He let his gaze drift down to that daring neckline. ‘Perhaps you would like to bring a shawl. The carriage is open and the wind is cool by the shore.’

  ‘I am prepared,’ she replied, lifting her arm to display a frothy parasol dangling from a ribbon at her wrist. ‘It is a lovely day.’

  Say more and she’d be insulted. Or pretend she was. She was playing him. Testing to see if he was man or mouse.

  To hell with it. The day was fine and she was a beautiful woman. Let her display herself, if she’d a mind. He could defend any insult with his fists and a good brawl would get rid of the energy burning in his veins.

  He held out his arm and escorted her out to the hotel yard where a groom was holding his team’s heads. After consulting with Sanford, he’d hired a landau and a fine pair of black horses. There would have been plenty of room for three. But he couldn’t deny, he liked it better with two.

  He helped her in and gave the driver the signal to be off.

  She opened her parasol and positioned it to shade her face from the morning sun. ‘You will point out the sights as we go, Mr Gilvry?’

  ‘If I can be bothered to look at them, when the finest thing in Edinburgh is sitting beside me.’

  Her eyes widened a fraction. She placed a hand on his sleeve below his elbow. A casual searing touch of gloved finger tips. ‘Prettily said. I hadn’t taken you for a courtier.’

  He covered her hand with his palm. She’d challenged, he fully intended to see the game through. ‘I speak naught but the truth. ’Tis a bad habit.’

  Faint colour stained her high cheekbones beneath the rouge she’d applied. If he hadn’t been watching closely, he would never have seen the evidence of having reached his mark. Hah. He might not be a courtier, but he wasn’t without eyes or ears around his brothers and their wives. He knew where to place the point of his verbal arrow.

  ‘I will keep that at the forefront of my mind, Mr Gilvry,’ she said in that come-hither voice of hers.

  ‘Shall we stand on ceremony, Mrs West? Call me Logan, if it pleases you.’

  She smiled and her eyelids lowered a fraction. ‘Logan, then. And you may call me Charity.’

  ‘An unusual name.’

  ‘For such as me?’

  ‘For anyone.’

  ‘It is Jack’s joke.’

  He looked at her, waiting for her to explain, but she shook her head. ‘Perhaps when we get to know each other better.’

  A cruel joke. He sensed it. Viscerally. Perhaps it was the flash of vulnerability he saw in those heather-coloured eyes. The echo of pain quickly quelled. Or in the quick scornful smile. Whatever it was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to delve so deep. She was Jack O’Banyon’s woman and it was better he keep a little distance. They drove along Abbey Hill, skirting the Palace.

  ‘It is surprising to see a mountain so close to the city,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, aye. Arthur’s Seat, but I have no idea if he sat there or no’. It lies in the Palace grounds. There is a grand view of the city from the top. They had an enormous bonfire up there last night to welcome the King. Not that he could be seeing it through the rain.’

  He turned on to Regent Road.

  ‘And what is that?’ she asked pointing at the enormous pale stone edifice on the left.

  ‘Bridewell Prison.’

  She stared up at the high walls and gave a small shiver. ‘You know the city well.’

  ‘Well enough. I visited a few times as a lad and now my brother Niall and his wife live here.’

  He waited, half-expecting her to share some titbit about her family. A tit-for-tat exchange of information. She twirled her parasol. ‘Let us hope the weather holds today.’

  Not giving away anything today, then. Disappointment surprised him, when there was no reason for him to know anything about her.

  On Kirkgate, the broad busy street leading into Leith, the traffic became congested. Logan stood to see ahead. ‘The soldiers are directing the traffic.’

  She sighed. ‘Does that mean we must walk?’

  He grinned at her obvious disgruntlement. ‘No’ wearing the right kind of shoes for a hike through the streets, I’m thinking.’

  She lifted her chin and afforded him a view of her lovely profile. Quite deliberately enchanting and very haughty. What a strange mixture she was of earthy woman and high-and-mighty miss. Intriguing. Mysterious. Not his concern. His only concern was to get O’Banyon to make a bargain with Dunross. Getting tangled up with his mistress would only get in the way. Though at least one part of him thought it would be a worthwhile risk.

  Knowing the sort of trouble it could lead to, he had that part well under control.

  Play with fire, expect to get burned. Ian’s harsh words from long ago. The scars of that burning had remained with him for years and an echo of them still tightened his skin whenever he thought of Maggie. He’d been lucky her
father was an honest man or he’d be married by now, tied down as a husband and father to a child that was not his own.

  Not that this lass was anything like as deceitful as Maggie. This one was honest about her devious intentions. Still, if he toyed with this particular ember and O’Banyon objected, the whole of the Gilvry clan, not just him, would suffer the consequences.

  Like ruin and starvation.

  Nothing was worth that.

  * * *

  After a good half-hour, they reached the barricade formed by a troop of soldiers. A sergeant stepped up smartly and Logan handed him his pass. The man peered at it closely, then waved them through.

  There were a great many pedestrians on the road now. Narrow streets cut off on either side, but he headed straight for the docks and there they found crowds lining the east and west piers. People were flocking to find places on both sides of the harbour. A lucky few had obtained a window overlooking the scene, and a few hardy souls risked life and limb clinging to ridge poles. The mood was one of a grand holiday. A fête. He directed their driver to cross the drawbridge to the North Shore

  On that side, soldiers directed the carriage to the customs-house yard. He tried not to chuckle at being a guest of the excisemen as they walked the short distance to a scaffold that had been constructed with seats for local dignitaries and their ladies. It provided a perfect view of the procession lined up on Bernard Street and the platform where the King would land. He couldn’t help his ‘I-told-you-so’ grin as she looked around. ‘I hope this suits you, my lady?’

  A rigidity seized her body. She sent him a black look from beneath her lashes.

  ‘What is wrong?’

  She looked at him, then averted her gaze, staring down at the milling scene below them. ‘Nothing. It is nothing. And indeed, Logan, this is a very good spot. The view is perfect.’

  Not true. He had said something that struck a nerve. Mentally he shrugged. If she wouldna’ tell him, then how could he fix it? He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the telescope he’d begged from Niall. ‘You will see more through this.’

  Her expression relaxed. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was no longer arctic. ‘You do think of everything, don’t you?’