“—as long as you refrain from turning on the frost with Kimball the way you do with most men, I feel certain we’ll walk away with an invitation to his house party next weekend. Just remember, Emma. That’s the goal. Advance to the second round of the bride hunt.”
The bride hunt. Emma had a sudden vision of a fox outfitted in a cummerbund darting across a field with hounds wearing wedding veils nipping at its heels.
She tried to keep the goal uppermost in her mind when her turn to interview arrived. After all, the sooner this task was accomplished, the sooner she could get back to her own interests. She gave her sister’s hand a quick squeeze, squared her shoulders, pasted on a bright smile, and entered the Bankston House study.
A man she assumed was Kimball sat behind a large carved mahogany desk. Dark hair. Blue eyes. He was a handsome enough man for a scoundrel, she supposed.
“Good afternoon, Miss…?”
This is it. The curtain rises. You might not be the natural actress Kat is, but you can do it, Emma.
“Mrs.,” she corrected. “Mrs. Tate. I’ve been widowed for some time now. This is my companion, Mrs. Wilhemina Peters.”
The man behind the desk nodded toward “Mrs. Peters,” then addressed Emma. “My condolences on your loss. I’m Jake Kimball. This is Mrs. Pippin—” he gestured toward an elderly woman seated on a sofa, then nodded toward a figure who entered the room through a side door and came to stand beside Kimball’s desk “—and Mr. MacRae.”
Emma smiled at Mrs. Pippin, then turned to acknowledge Mr. MacRae. The polite smile on her face slipped.
Silver eyes. Chiseled cheekbones. Alasdair.
Dair. I dare you…
Shocked, Emma didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Her heartbeat pounded. Her blood hummed. A shiver crawled up her spine. Without taking his gaze from hers, Dair MacRae propped a hip on the edge of Kimball’s desk, his movement slow with a jungle cat’s grace.
Then, he smiled. A slow, sensuous, secretive grin.
She tingled in response. Oh, my. Oh my oh my oh my.
For a long minute, they could have been the only two people in the room. The air thickened. Emma went warm. Everything feminine inside her seemed to lift and swell.
She held her breath, waiting for him to mention their earlier meeting. What would this do to Kat’s plan? Were they ruined before they ever began?
Finally, Dair spoke, his voice a smooth, mellow, intimate sound. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tate.”
Relieved, she attempted a polite nod. Feared it came off more like a twitch. Clearing her throat, she croaked, “Mr. MacRae.”
His penetrating gaze seemed to see into her soul. “Alasdair, please. Or Dair. My friends call me Dair.”
Though her heart continued to pound, Emma finally managed to drag her gaze away from the man when Mrs. Pippin said hello.
While the woman and Kat exchanged niceties, Emma managed to collect herself. Apparently—for now, anyway—the game continued.
Jake Kimball offered her a wide smile. “So, Mrs. Tate. Judging by your delightful accent, I gather you’re from America?”
Emma tried her best to ignore Dair MacRae’s mesmerizing stare as she responded to Kimball’s questions. Nervous, she tried hard not to fidget and give herself away as she told the stream of lies. Although, it would help if the silver-eyed jungle cat looked somewhere—anywhere—else.
When she stumbled over a falsehood and Kat jumped to the rescue with a lie of her own, Dair MacRae tilted his head to one side, his smoky gaze still intent, but now also considering. Emma felt compelled to reach out and smooth away the thought line in his brow.
Quickly, she sat on her hand. What in the world is the matter with you? Remember the woman’s scarf he pulled from his pocket? The way he disappeared? The man is a rogue.
As Kimball continued his questioning, MacRae lifted a round crystal paperweight from his friend’s desk and tossed it from hand to hand. His big hands matched the rest of him in size, Emma noted, yet he caught the crystal with a gentle touch. She’d always found gentleness in big men appealing. Growing up in a town full of cowboys, she saw a lot of big men. She seldom considered any of them gentle.
Not that Dair MacRae was necessarily a gentle man. Not at all. His relaxed posture failed to hide his predatory air and by nature, predators weren’t gentle.
Kat launched into a sales pitch enumerating Emma’s good qualities. Emma didn’t appreciate being talked about as if she weren’t in the room, though she guessed she’d brought it on herself. MacRae had distracted her. Was still distracting her. She waited on pins and needles for the words ice cream to come out of his mouth and undoubtedly ruin her chances to win the invitation so important to Kat.
“So you see, Mr. Kimball,” her sister concluded. “It would have been foolish of Emma not to accept the bribe.”
Dair MacRae’s mouth silently formed the word Emma, then he slowly licked his lips.
Oh, my heavens. Emma shivered in response, then forced her attention back to the conversation at hand.
Jake Kimball continued to address Kat. “And her hobbies, what does she like to read?”
“History books. She’s interested in foreign lands. She has a particular interest in Scotland, as her family originated in that country, and she fell in love with the Highlands during one of our visits there.”
“An intelligent beauty,” MacRae said. He winked at her, then added, “Scotland is one of the finest places on earth.”
Emma’s cheeks warmed. She didn’t understand the game here. Was he not going to mention their previous meeting at all? If so, why not? Perhaps the wife she’d suspected yesterday? The mistress? Since she couldn’t very well ask those questions, she replied with the first thing that popped into her mind. “You’re a Scot, Mr. MacRae?”
“By blood, if not by birth. Actually, I was born in Texas, but I left there long ago. I’m a wanderer by nature.”
“Oh?” A fellow Texan. Imagine that. Emma leaned forward. Maybe there was no wife, after all. No ties that bound. Wishful thinking, Emma. Beware. Besides, why should it matter to her anyway? “What’s your favorite place to visit?”
He cocked his head and considered the question. “The islands of Hawaii are particularly appealing.”
“The Hawaiian Islands?” Emma mentally pictured brilliant flowers, perfumed sea breezes, and an azure ocean lapping gently at naked lovers rolling in the sand on a deserted beach. He had dark hair and broad shoulders and…oh, stop it! “I’ve always been fascinated by that part of the world.”
This daydreaming indulgence was getting out of hand.
While Kat and Jake Kimball continued conversing about her, Emma asked herself what was the matter with her? It’s not as if she’d never received a man’s attention before. To be honest, if not modest, she was accustomed to such notice. Every woman garnered attention in a maledominated frontier town. However, it wasn’t her habit to react this way to a man, especially not one she just met. What was it about Dair MacRae that sent her off into a fantasy land?
Then her eyes widened and her brows winged up as a thought occurred to her—a wicked, exciting, stimulating idea. Was this the sort of escapade she’d come to England in search of? Not an ice cream bet about a donkey tail, but a man? This man?
Come with me, whispered her dream man.
I dare you, Alasdair had said.
No, surely not, the practical Emma asserted. She wanted adventure without danger, didn’t she? This man exuded danger, so much so that the smoldering look in his eyes sent shivers up and down her spine.
Kimball and Kat continued their back-and-forth banter until finally, MacRae interrupted. “Excuse me, Jake, but perhaps I should mention that you’ve run over time with Mrs. Tate, and you have asked hardly any questions on the list.”
“Oh, yes. You’re right. I apologize.” Kimball jerked his attention away from Kat and scanned the piece of paper in front of him. Seconds later, he looked at Emma and gently asked, “You said you’ve been wido
wed for awhile. Why have you not remarried?”
Emma’s thoughts drifted back to her husband, and a sad smile played upon her lips. She and Casey had grown up together, been friends much of their lives. She’d miss him and mourn him for the rest of her life. “I loved my husband deeply. I’ve yet to find another man who will share with me a love that is strong, vigilant and true.”
MacRae’s brows arched. “Mrs. Peters” rolled her eyes and let out a soft, but audible groan. Kimball asked, “Will you not settle for less, Emma Tate?”
She opened her mouth to tell him that yes, she’d agree to the loveless marriage he promised. Somehow, though, after she sneaked a glance at MacRae, other words, surprising words, emerged. “No, I will not.”
Kimball sat back in his chair. Kat gave Emma a quick, hard pinch. “Sorry,” Kat said, her tone oozing innocence. “There was a fly on your arm. Just shooing it away.”
“I see,” Kimball said.
So did Emma, and she wanted to kick herself. By speaking from her heart, she’d ruined Kat’s plan. She should have prevaricated. She should have pretended. She should have told the man an out-and-out lie.
Dismay washed through her. The McBride Menace in her was shamed. Obviously, she needed more practice at pretending. Her skills in that area weren’t rusty, they were ruined. It had been years since she’d tried to be someone other than herself. Years since she’d set out to attract a man. And she’d never attempted to attract one man while lusting after another. In the same room. She’d needed more time to prepare.
She’d have needed a lifetime to prepare.
She cast a look toward her sister and silently conveyed her apology. This plan obviously hadn’t worked, but they need not give up. They could try something else. Since they wouldn’t be invited to Chatham Park to compete for the position of Mrs. Jake Kimball, perhaps they could gain entrance to the estate under the guise of being servants. They could forge some references, scrounge up a maid’s costume or two. It could work. It’d be fun. It’d be an adventure.
Then Jake Kimball shocked her and everyone else in the room by extending an invitation to his country house.
Holy Hannah. I did it. We’re in. Once her surprise waned enough for Emma to think, she rose from her seat and accepted the invitation. “Why, yes. Thank you. We’ll be pleased to attend, although, I must say I’m surprised. I didn’t think—”
“We didn’t think you’d be so perceptive, sir,” Kat said, jumping to her feet. She poked Emma in the side with her elbow. “Some men don’t recognize treasure when it’s right in front of their face.”
“Oh, I recognize treasure,” Kimball replied, addressing Kat. “You can count on that. I am a treasure hunter, after all. And just so you know, once I find a treasure, I don’t give it up.”
While his friend spoke, MacRae’s intense stare never left Emma. Me, too, he seemed to say. In fact, she could almost hear his voice speaking those words in her head. It was a curious thing, like one of those moments she sometimes shared with her sisters when they seemed to read one another’s mind.
But Dair MacRae wasn’t her sister, and she didn’t know him as well as she knew her own name. She didn’t know the man at all, but she knew the man was dangerous. He wasn’t her adventure.
She wanted to ask if he’d be joining them at Chatham Park. She wanted to ask him if the scarf had been his wife’s.
Kimball escorted the women to the door, then bowed over their hands, one at a time. “Until the weekend.”
“The weekend,” Kat replied, her eyes sparkling and alive.
Alasdair MacRae moved to stand beside Kimball. He nodded to Kat, then took hold of Emma’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Until next weekend.”
Yes! He’ll be there!
Confound it, Emma. Get a hold of yourself.
I’d rather he get a hold of me.
Then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Lightning sizzled up her arm and Emma shuddered. She managed no more than a shaky smile as they took their leave, and it wasn’t until the door closed behind them that she felt freed from a sensual spell.
“We did it, Emma!” Kat exclaimed, throwing her arms around her sister and giving her a quick, hard hug before tugging her down the street away from Bankston House. “You were awful, but you’re still obviously superior to most of these other women, and Jake Kimball was smart enough to recognize it. Just think, a week from now, I may well have my necklace back. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Em?”
“Yes,” Emma agreed, staring at the spot on the back of her hand that still tingled from Dair MacRae’s kiss.
“I’m so excited. That was fun. Wasn’t that fun, Emma?”
“Yes. Yes, it was.” With the stress of the interview behind her, Emma took a moment to savor the pleasure of accomplishment at a pair of successful bits of mischief. While neither the ice cream shenanigans nor today’s effort exactly counted as the escapade she craved, she had dipped her toes back into trouble-making and enjoyed the experience. It reminded her that she’d always relished her stints at being a Menace. Growing up and becoming responsible did have its drawbacks.
Then, she recalled that look in Dair MacRae’s eyes as he referenced the upcoming weekend.
Growing up had its advantages, too.
CLOUDS ROLLED IN AND OBSCURED the sun as it sank toward the western horizon. Dair flipped up the collar of his seaman’s jacket as fat raindrops began to splatter against the cobblestones. He took a circuitous route to his destination, intent upon losing anyone who might attempt to follow him. By the time he paused outside the Dog and DuckTavern, rain fell in a steady, chilling sheet, and Dair felt secure that if anyone had begun this journey with him, he finished it alone.
He sucked in a breath and tried to will away the nagging headache that plagued him almost constantly of late. He couldn’t afford the distraction right now.
He opened the pub’s door and stepped inside. Tobacco smoke swirled in the air, mixing with the scent of fried fish, spilled ale and unwashed bodies. Dair made his way to the table in the back where a man awaited him.
“What can I get you, luv?” a buxom barmaid asked.
“Whiskey.” Dair took his seat and nodded. “Hello, Angus.”
The grizzled old Scot scowled at him, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle. “MacRae. Tis a lousy afternoon for a meet, and I canna say I’m thrilled with the fare, either. The fish is old and the whiskey is watered. The proprietor should be shot.”
Dair smothered a smile. “My apologies, old friend. I’ll schedule Buckingham Palace next time.”
Angus Fraser snorted. “I dinna doubt ye could do it.”
Conversation halted when the barmaid brought Dair’s drink and remained a moment to flirt. Once the two men were alone, Fraser said, “If this is about yer most recent request, I have little information for ye, I fear. I’ve had men on ye for the past three days, but they’ve seen no sign that you’re being watched.” He paused significantly, then added, “Handy, that, considering yer late-night activities.”
Dair ignored the veiled reference to the Riever, his thoughts on the problem at hand. Had his apprehension of the boy resulted in the end of the surveillance? Perhaps, but he didn’t trust it. Too many pieces of the puzzle remained missing to put together a proper picture. “Stay on it, if you would, Angus. It may well be a suspicious spouse, but I’d like confirmation.”
“Aye.” The grizzled Scot nodded. “I’ll do me best. Speakin’ of doing me best, I need a wee more time to dispose of yer latest delivery. Emeralds like those require a special client.”
Dair considered the question. “Take another month. After that, dump them. Now, I have another task for you. I need information about a pair of Americans currently in London on a holiday. The name is McBride. Sisters, Emma and Katrina, from Fort Worth, Texas. I want a thorough report, focused especially upon the widow, Emma. Her married name is Tate.” He added a few more details he’d learned from grilling Jake after his friend confes
sed to recognizing the sisters despite Katrina’s disguise.
“Do you want financial and—”
“I want everything. I want to know the state of her investments, who her lovers are, if she owns any pets. I want you to dig deep enough that you could tell me the color of the lace on her corset if I asked.”
Fraser rolled his tongue around the inside of his cheek, then spoke in a droll tone. “That’s a detail yer more likely to discover than me.”
Dair’s lips twisted with a grin. The man did have a point.
“We’ve a wee bit of a problem, however. I need to leave London. I’ve business that requires my attention and I intend to depart as soon as possible. Would ye be trusting me man Tompkins with the work?”
“He’s the man who gathered the information about the Carrington diamonds last winter, correct?”
Fraser smiled fondly. “A more beautiful diadem I have yet to see. Aye, that was Tompkins. The Highland Riever is a favorite of his ever since. Twas a nice commission ye gave him.”
Dair gave him a cautionary frown. Though the Dog and Duck’s status as a den of thieves made for a safe meeting location for their business, it also made it a risky place to bandy about identities best left unmentioned. “Tompkins is not to know this information is for me. Have him deliver it to Warfield House in care of Her Grace. Within three days.”
The Scotsman’s eyes rounded. “The duchess? I thought ye ended that liaison.”
Dair shrugged. Sister Mary Margaret’s decision had affected a number of his plans. “I’ve reconsidered the emeralds.”
Avarice lit Fraser’s expression. “Excellent! Excellent! I’ll make it a point to return to London at the earliest possible opportunity in order to assist ye with their disposal.”
Ten minutes later, with arrangements completed, Dair exited the Dog and Duck. Darkness shrouded the city. Street traffic remained sparse as the cold, unrelenting rain continued to splatter against the sidewalks and cobblestone streets. He plunged his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders against the chill, and headed up the street toward a main thoroughfare where he’d have better luck catching a cab back to Bankston House and the rooms Jake provided him. Half a block away, he realized he’d better detour to his rented rooms nearby.
Her Outlaw Page 3
