She took out the cipher key and spread it next to the strange letters. Slowly, she began to decipher them. The letters spoke of secret rendezvous and clandestine missions. They mentioned shadowy figures and their movements. There were detailed accounts of unexpected alliances formed, and possible betrayals being planned.
She came to the last letter, and as she painstakingly decoded it and read the contents, her hands began to shake. It commanded Niall to ensure that a certain ‘liability’ was safely escorted out of the region and sent south, before his mission could be put at risk.
Was that liability her? And what was this ‘mission’?
The sound of heavy footsteps made her hair stand on end. She hurried to stuff the cipher back into the draw and rearrange the letters, but she wasn’t quick enough. The door swung open, revealing Niall standing in the doorway. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Charlie in his chair.
“What are ye doing in here?” he growled.
“You lied to me!” she accused, her anger lending strength to her voice.
Niall’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What are ye talking about?”
“Don’t play innocent with me!” she snapped. “Youarranged for Antonio to take me away. You paid him off! And you didn’t even have the decency to tell me the truth!”
Something flickered in Niall’s eyes—surprise? Guilt? But it was gone as soon as it appeared. Instead, his gaze fell to the letter dangling from her hand.
His expression hardened. “I’ll ask ye again: what are ye doing in here?”
“Looking for you, obviously!” she retorted.
“Ye have been going through my things.” He said it quietly, his voice hard and cold. “Why have ye been going through my things?”
“Because I wanted the truth!” she snapped. “And I knew damned well you wouldn’t tell me!” She brandished the letter. “What the hell is this, Niall? What are you involved in?”
Niall snatched the letter from her hand. His eyes flickered over it quickly before he crumpled it and tossed it onto the desk.
“This is none of yer concern.”
“Really? I beg to differ,” she fired back. “Especially when I’m being referred to as a ‘liability’ who needs to be sent away!”
His eyes narrowed, flaring with suspicion. “Ye decoded it? Damn it woman, ye had no right! Ye shouldnae have been snooping!”
“Maybe not,” she retorted, her anger making her reckless. “But maybe if you’d been honest with me in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to.”
Niall clenched his jaw. “Honest with ye? Ye say that to me? When ye have avoided my questions and told me next to nothing about yerself?” He walked up to the other side of the desk and glared at Charlie, suddenly intimidating.
“So if it’s honesty ye want, then how about we start with ye? Who are ye really? Why were ye in Edinburgh and why did ye pretend to be the Countess of Argyle?”
Charlie stared at him. That again? They’d been through this! “I told you! I was in Edinburgh to meet my cousin for a dress fitting. That’s where she’s getting married! And I didn’t mean to pose as anyone. The guy on the door got my name wrong, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” he murmured. “Then how come this cousin of yers never showed? How come that shop ye took me to wasnae a dress shop at all? How come Lady Murray sent her men after ye?” He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, anger flashing in his emerald eyes. “And how come ye are able to recognize coded letters and know how to break those codes? Not a usual skill for a lady, wouldnae ye say?”
She swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. They were stormy and filled with distrust. She had come here to have it out with him, but not like this. She hadn’t come here expecting to discover his secrets and risk her own in the process.
“I...I can explain,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she could. She’d gotten herself into a mess and she wasn’t sure how to get out of it.
“Go on then,” Niall said, his voice dangerously low. “I’m waiting.”
“I read about codes,” she blurted. “In books.”
“Books?”
“Thriller novels. My favorite genre. Especially ones about espionage.” Oh God, what was she doing? She was starting to babble and only dig herself in deeper.
“Who sent ye?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry?”
