Page 23 of The Scot Who Loved Me

“No,” she cried. The pounding in her chest cleaved fact from fiction. There might besometruth to his words.

“Aunt Flora’s presence was a masterful move.”

Did he not understand?Her feet itched to move, but she dared not go any closer. “Aunt Flora is not a chess piece.”

Will scoffed. The brooding beast gone, Hades had taken his place, an angry deity framed by red serge drapes and late day London skies. Gray, gray, and more dismal gray while he flared brilliantly. The god of the underworld looked ready to smite her, but she’d not retreat, regroup, or reassess. The moment was upon her to carve a path forward. She’d seize it.

“Everything you’ve heard, the herds in need of replenishment, the Clanranald men unjustly taken, our kin desperate for safe passage to the colonies... it’s all true.”

“With certain details conveniently left out.”

He advanced on her, slow and menacing, but she stood her ground, a chill camping on the knot in her back. Wonderful. More discomfort.She deserved his ire, but she would not cower. Necessity was a harsh taskmaster. One learned quickly or was trampled by London’s barbarians, and London bred the best of them. Silk-clad, bejeweled barbarians were particularly cruel. The skirted ones, the worst. They played fast with the law and hid behind privilege and petticoats after dealing vicious blows. Will never functioned that way. He was honest, loyal to a fault, and he fought face-to-face just as he’d told her abovestairs. Skulking in shadows and trickery were cowardly to a man of his high standards. It’s why he fought the rebellion openly.

When he stopped a half pace from her, she wished he wasn’t so forthright.

It hurt to be this close to his proud, beautiful face. The angles sharp, his skin smooth. The severe line of his mouth told her how great the divide between them. She’d do well to start bridging it.

“I tried to tell you in the shed—”

“You didna try hard enough.” Arms crossed, Hades was in no mood to listen.

“—and then you followed me home.”

Muscles tensed under wrinkled velvet pulled tight over shoulders and arms. Will needed that reminder. His flinty eyes burned a tad less bright for it. The two of them trod a careful line of thrust and parry, of argument and persuasion. All the same, she’d touched a nerve and wanted to soothe it. The irritating desire to smooth every inch of ruined velvet lingered too. She buried both hands in her skirts to resist the urge.

“You may recall, I spent considerable effortlast night convincing you the Jacobite gold is real. And when I saw how exhausted you were, I thought sleep the better thing.”

Will’s eyes were topaz chips. “Do not maneuver me, madame.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. We are equals.” An economy of words usually worked with Will. Direct, plain. When they didn’t suffice, she reminded him in patient tones, “And I already agreed to your... payment.”

His visage was stony.

“There is that.”

Silence was a gift, a blessed moment to reassemble.

“Then, you understand,” she said quietly. “You are not the only one uncomfortable here.”

Will stalked to the fireplace, and she exhaled air she didn’t know she was holding. A gate had been opened. Wasn’t that how progress worked? A little give, a little take. She was sure more giving on her part would be required. Much more giving.

“I know why you came to me after all these years,” he said.

She stilled. “You do?”

“Because I know where Ancilla keeps the Wilkes Lock key.”

She squeezed her eyes shut a split second. Hearing the countess’s Christian name set her teeth on edge. “It’s in her study,” she said. “I had planned to search for it if you wouldn’t help us.”

“She keeps the key in a hollowed-out book. You’d be old and gray afore you ever found it.”

“A book.” There were hundreds of them in the woman’s study, thousands more in her library.

“But you don’t know which one Ancilla uses.” Will swung around, his smile pure satisfaction. “Which means you need me. Quite a lot, in fact.”

“We need each other.” Walking toward him, she enunciated each word, adding a surly, “And would you please address the woman properly? Despite her being a heinous gargoyle.”

“A gargoyle?” he chuckled, and she swatted the air.