Claiming His Defiant Miss Page 14

  May snuggled deeper into his arms. ‘Thank you. I am glad you told me.’

  ‘I had to tell you.’ He played with her hair, checking his earlier work for tangles.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ May’s tone was sleepy and light. ‘You want me to accept that Roan is a real danger. I do. This is a man who tried to kill you and has tried to kill my brother. I do understand, truly.’

  ‘No, it’s more than that, May. Roan is but one of my enemies. I protect people in Britain’s interest. There are those who would disagree, who would rather see me out of the way and those who just want revenge. Protecting others can be a dangerous business if one acquires a reputation.’

  He could feel her still beside him, her thoughts grappling with the impact of his words. He had to give the rest of the truth to her now or he might never find the courage. ‘The choice to join the Home Office has changed my life, May. Sometimes for better and sometimes for worse. It has also changed...me.’ He kept his hand moving through her hair, not wanting to betray how much the next few words mattered to him. He didn’t want May’s pity, he didn’t want her to be polite, and perhaps she would be if she sensed important feelings were at stake. Then again, maybe not. May wasn’t one for sugar coating. ‘I have enemies, May, and I have darkness. You should consider that when you wonder why you’re in my bed.’

  May started drawing again on his chest, a sign that she had her verdict. But it was too fast, too quick for the weighty insights he’d shared and it showed her desperation. ‘All the more reason we should stay here.’ It was such an obvious countermove. May would look for a way to turn this to her advantage. How could she get what she wanted? That would certainly be the best of both worlds for her; she could keep her cottage fantasy in Scotland and keep him with her. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so cynical. She wanted him to stay. She’d said ‘we’. We could stay. He said nothing. He waited. May was never good at silence.

  ‘So many people are depending on us, just now,’ she whispered her argument. ‘Beatrice and the baby, Preston.’

  ‘How long are you going to hide behind Beatrice? That baby will need you for ever, your friend will need you for ever if you allow it. Do you think Beatrice expects you to stay for ever?’ In the weeks he’d known Beatrice, he didn’t think she meant for May to share her exile on a permanent basis. Beatrice was strong, resourceful and, most of all, perceptive. Beatrice had allowed May to come this far with her because May needed it as much as she did.

  ‘I’m not hiding. I’m trying to be a good friend, a loyal friend.’ May’s response was terse. ‘I’m loyal to her, the way you are loyal to Preston. Surely you couldn’t leave him just now?’

  That was a sticking point, perhaps her most persuasive argument to date. They couldn’t leave until they knew the ledger pages were safely in the hands of the government and that Preston was well. ‘Cabot Roan won’t be a threat for ever.’ But he was for now. ‘Then what, May? What happens after Roan?’ He’d given her all the tools she needed to decide responsibly. ‘What happens when Roan is caught and you’re free? Do you go home to London and your family or do you tie yourself to a dangerous man who might put you in peril simply by association?’

  May gave a hard laugh. ‘Are there only two choices? Why can’t staying here be a third option? Why does it always have to be my choice? Why does it have to be me having to choose what to give up?’ He could feel her getting mad. ‘What about you, Liam? What do you give up?’ May sighed. ‘Have you thought about that? You haven’t got a family to risk. There’s no one to risk but yourself, nothing to give up but your career. You could find another one. Preston could help you and you have credentials now. I am sure there’s a safer occupation out there for you.’

  She scooted away from him, propping herself up on one arm. He felt the loss immediately. He wanted her back in his arms. ‘I want my freedom, Liam, but I love my family and it kills me that I can’t have both. You were right. This cottage, this life I’m leading here, is not real independence. My father sends an allowance. Bea and I think we can make it on our own, but we don’t really know. This is an experiment and if it fails, we can go back home. But it’s the only kind of independence I can have that won’t cost me my family. I resent my parents’ determination that I marry appropriately, but I don’t resent them. It’s the only path they know.’

  Liam rolled to his side and looked at her. This was a more mature May speaking, not the rebellious girl who had wanted to act out against her parents, who saw only that she was being denied what she wanted. This was a woman who had acquired perspective and it had tempered her. He respected that woman, he loved that woman. How could he stand to lose her again? ‘Then tell me, May, what are we doing in this bed?’

  May pushed at his shoulders with the flat of her hand and rolled over him, straddling him at his hips, her hair hanging forward over her breasts. ‘We are doing the best we can.’ She leaned forward and kissed him, letting those breasts brush against his chest in tempting promise. She reached between them, her hand grasping for him. ‘We are together, right now. Let that be enough.’ She kissed him again, letting her tongue run along the edges of his in a tantalising mirror of her hand below.

  He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew what it should hold. Every instinct in him told him Roan was coming, told him he should get May to Edinburgh as fast as possible. But here he was, on his back, letting May have her way with him, letting her refuse to directly answer his questions, letting himself pretend he had enough answers for now and that those answers symbolised progress. He’d told her his truths and May still wanted him, wanted the ‘us’ for as long as she could have it. Never mind—that was what she’d wanted once before.

  May rode him with a slow, deliberate rock of her hips, his brain unable to concentrate on anything else but the sensation of his body in hers. Sweet heavens, three weeks of domestic life had made him soft. Well, not entirely soft. Parts of him were rock hard.

  It occurred to him vaguely as May moved over him, taking him deep inside her, that maybe she’d got what she wanted. She’d come up here with her brandy and seduction in the hope of convincing him to buy into the fantasy—stay here in the little village on the Forth and live the pretence...the pretence that nothing would change, that Cabot Roan wouldn’t find them and that somehow, miraculously, all would be well.

  Chapter Sixteen

  All would be well. Roan could feel it in his bones, along with the seeping cold and the wet damp of Scotland in November. But he’d take it. Cabot Roan slammed shut the articulating mast of his telescope with satisfaction. After days of racing over rutted roads and uncertain terrain that risked carriage wheels and horses alike, followed by days more of headquartering in an inn with a certain dubious ‘rustic’ charm, waiting for reports to trickle in, he had good news at last.

  He’d found the sister and Liam Casek. Quite together, from the reports. One man had told him there was gossip circulating that Casek had thrown a man against a wall for looking at May Worth too long a few days back. If they were indeed together in that sense, it would make for an interesting dynamic when he took them. They were going to pay for this most uncomfortable trip. For a man with his fortune at his disposal, he resented not being able to spend it on good living. But high living also meant too much attention and he wanted the element of surprise on his side. Which explained why he was out on the road in the middle of the night.

  In the dark, there were few details he could see about the cottage, but it meant he was invisible in the blackness. No one was out, there was no one to see him, no one to note that he wanted to take a closer look at the cottage rented by a Mrs Fields. His man had come back this afternoon, dripping wet and full of news. Two villages over in a fishing village on the Forth, there were two English ladies who’d taken a cottage at the end of summer, both of them dark haired, one of them expecting a baby and waiting for her husband to join them. That alone hadn�
��t particularly interested Roan. Although, to be honest, his pulse had quickened at the news they were both dark haired, never mind half the female population of Britain had darkish hair. It had been the other bit of news accompanying it: a man, who was not the pregnant woman’s husband, had joined them a few weeks ago. The clincher had been the story of beating up the farmer who had looked too long at the other woman.

  That was a tip worth paying for. Liam Casek was here and Casek was edgy. Perhaps this delay had worked in his favour, Roan mused. Liam Casek would be restless, worried, searching for news, waiting for direction, his paranoia building. He’d see trouble everywhere and that had exposed him, exposed them.

  Tomorrow, he would pay Mrs Fields a visit. It was market day and he was counting on Casek being out of the house for a bit. He’d walk up to her front door and ask about her house guest. He needed to decide how to do it. Roan wheeled his horse around, his mind filling with options. There were so many ways to terrify a person. Should he barge in, wielding a gun, and force a confession from her at pistol point? Should his men burn the barn and make her pay for harbouring Casek and the ledger evidence on her property? Should he play the gentleman and go to Mrs Fields with manners and flattery? He’d love to sit in her front parlour sipping tea, just waiting for Casek to walk in.

  Better yet, perhaps he should leave Mrs Fields out of it altogether. He didn’t think he’d hurt Mrs Fields. Harming mothers who’d just given birth and little babies made him look like a villain, not a businessman. He was only interested in extracting revenge from those who meddled in his affairs, although ‘meddling’ was putting it mildly compared to what Casek and Worth had done. Worth had broken into his home, his own private domain, and stolen from him. Casek had helped him get away. Roan was sure of that now. When a man interfered with Cabot Roan, he had to learn to pay the price—he and his family. But that was where Roan’s vengeance ended.

  That decided it. He would send one of his men to take the Worth chit in the village. Tomorrow was market day, a prime opportunity, and Casek would be with her, especially if he was growing paranoid. Roan smiled to himself. He felt much better about this plan. Mrs Fields needn’t be implicated at all. He wasn’t a bloodthirsty rogue, after all, but he was an exacting one especially when it was his neck on the line.

  That neck was indeed on the line. Roan unconsciously massaged his throat, a gesture he was making too often these days. He was looking for Casek and those incriminating ledger papers. The names on those pages were looking for him. Coming to Scotland after May Worth was a convenient reason to get out of England. It wasn’t just the Crown looking to see him hanged. The people he did business with would not appreciate their names being made public, it made them just as guilty of treason as he. But perhaps not as tenacious. He’d survived this long because he was never ready to give up.

  * * *

  May wasn’t ready to give up on her argument to stay put. Maybe Liam had it all wrong. Perhaps every day Roan didn’t come should be viewed with hope—proof that he wasn’t coming, couldn’t find them, or didn’t want to invest the time. Perhaps he’d decided as long as the papers were in Scotland they couldn’t hurt him. Maybe he’d decided to wait for the pages in London and steal them back then when he was sure they posed a danger. Liam didn’t agree. He would find such reasoning naïve. Every day Roan didn’t come made Liam more nervous, more alert.

  May slid a quiet look in Liam’s direction as they rode into the village for the market. They kept the horses to a walk. There was no hurry today and the ride was mostly silent, as had been their breakfast. She was keenly aware that Liam had laid himself open for her last night. She was still trying to digest the magnitude of everything that had been said and revealed. He’d asked her about the possibility of a future between them while at the same time seeming to warn her away from it. As a result, she’d had no ready answer to give and resentment lingered. How dared he make her choose?

  Last night had not gone entirely to plan. The sex, yes. The post-coital conversation, no. Her plan had simply been to keep him here, to convince him Edinburgh was unnecessary without telling him why. She wasn’t sure how he’d respond to the truth about Edinburgh. There was no love lost between him and her father. That could possibly work in her favour. But if there was a chance that Preston would be there, too, Liam would tolerate no prevarication. They would go even if he had to sling her over his shoulder and carry her every step of the way.

  With too many unknown reactions to factor in, she hadn’t dared to take her chances with full disclosure. In the end she was glad she hadn’t. If she had told him a holiday season of matchmaking awaited her, he would never have asked her for a future, never have told her all he had. He certainly would never have allowed her to seduce him. Sometimes, too much of the innate gentleman lurked beneath his rougher exterior. It was complicated enough as it was, just staying here. What did happen next? She knew her answer last night had not truly been an answer at all, only a delaying tactic.

  ‘Perhaps there will be a letter today.’ Liam broke into her thoughts as the village came into view. The ride had been good, exercise on a brisk, frosty day, a chance to be quiet with her thoughts, but now it was time to concentrate on the market and her tasks. She had a list from Beatrice.

  May shook her head. ‘You know there won’t be any letter. It’s too risky and Preston’s too smart for that.’ She refused to entertain other reasons Preston wouldn’t write. Her parents wouldn’t write, they were probably already in Edinburgh and expecting to see her shortly—too shortly—for a letter to be worthwhile. There was so much to think about, it made her head swim. She took a deep breath. She had to focus on one thing at a time. But it was hard to think about just the next thing when there were so many other larger issues pressing her attention: Roan, Preston, Edinburgh, all that Liam had revealed, her choices.

  They stopped and dismounted, tethering the horses near the vendors’ stalls. She just had to get through the market. Liam was already in bodyguard mode, scanning stalls, looking for anything unusual; new vendors, new products, unfamiliar faces, gaps a person could emerge from or be dragged into. He was doing his job. For the first time she understood more fully what that meant. He was always doing his job. He would always be doing it. Protection was ingrained in him. It was a reminder of all that did stand between them. He’d called it enemies and darkness.

  May idly tested the apples in a bin. ‘I’ll take two pounds,’ she told the apple seller, distractedly. Her gaze went to where Liam stood a few feet away, covertly conducting his surveillance without hovering; so tall, so bold with his blue eyes and that tiny scar high on his left cheek proclaiming him as a man of bold action as well as words. He’d opened himself up to her completely last night so she could decide. Could she live with the man he’d become and all that he might bring with him? Was he worth the danger?

  How could she not want him? Every time she looked at him, her stomach did a queer twist, her skin tingled when he touched her, he could make her cry out with sensations only he could awake, but his attraction went deeper than the physical. He knew her. He knew her secrets, he knew her youth. He’d had experiences with her no one else ever would. When she was old and grey, he would know how she’d ridden neck-for-nothing across a sunlit meadow, how she’d lain in a field of wildflowers looking up at the sky on a summer day. He knew what made her mad, he knew how she thought, how she fought.

  He knew her soul and all of its own flaws. He knew she wasn’t perfect and he just might love her anyway. He’d not said the words, not since he’d come to Scotland, but he had loved her once and he said he didn’t hate her. As for her, she greatly feared she loved him. Had never stopped loving him, although some days it had been harder to love him than others.

  She loved Liam Casek. May dropped the apples. She watched them scatter on the ground, her mind numbed to anything but that one thought. She loved Liam and she was going to love him for the rest
of her life whether she was with him or not. This feeling was going to be with her for ever. He was the other half of her soul.

  Liam was beside her, kneeling down to pick up the spilled fruit. ‘May, are you all right?’ He piled the apples in her basket and moved her out of the way of other shoppers.

  ‘I’m fine. I just realised...something.’ She didn’t dare look at him. What if he saw? What if he knew? Would that solve all their problems or create more? Not yet. She couldn’t tell him yet. She pulled herself together. ‘I need to get some buttons—shall I meet you outside the inn in twenty minutes? I won’t be long.’ It was the best option for snatching some time alone. The notions shop was the shop Liam liked the least. Run by a fussy old widow, it was small and cramped with hardly any room for customers let alone tag-along escorts. She could use the time to compose herself.

  Buttons took longer than she’d intended. Apparently, everyone needed buttons today and Widow Graham had talked to everyone excessively in turn. It was as though the woman knew May was in a hurry. Finally, her six buttons secure in the basket, May headed out on to the street. All of her attention was fixed on getting to the inn two streets down. If she let her attention wander, it might return to her earlier thoughts and that was not where she wanted them.

  The streets were crowded. The fishing boats were in for a few days before setting back out and that made everything busier. She was jostled from all sides, not unusual on days like this. A rough hand pressed up against her back, another hand gripped the arm not holding the basket. At first, it registered only as the roughness of a busy crowd. When that grip persisted and she was shoved off balance towards a narrow alleyway, she got angry. When she found her back up against the rough-hewn brick of a wall, she gave that anger vent.