He would allow himself the fury and excitement of lust that she aroused in his flesh, even if it made him want her in a way he’d never felt before. That need could be satisfied with the lovely Tess when he decided he needed her attentions. Iain would allow himself to admire the lady and even respect her. But pity would not change his mind or his plans. A knock on his chamber interrupted his thoughts of her and he was glad for it.
“Come.” Paul removed the towels as Puggles entered. Nodding, he waited by the door until called forward. “What is it, Puggles?” It was a ridiculous name, even while his butler insisted it was his true, or at least preferred, name.
“The arrangements for your supper are set, sir,” Puggles said. The man’s deep voice belied his skinny stature. “The meal you requested will be ready at the appointed time. The table you requested is already reserved.”
“Excellent.”
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Nothing else, Puggles.”
The scene was set. The players at the ready. By the end of this night he would discover what was truly at the center of her refusal to sell to him. He’d suspected it involved her late husband, but why would she refuse twice or triple the worth of the lands in addition to other concessions he’d offered? She was too... smart, too... savvy to rely on sentimentality, was she not?
Paul finished his work and Iain washed and dressed. They would meet at the Royal Waterloo Hotel, the newly opened and already renamed hotel at the end of Princes Street. The dining rooms were popular and open to the public—if they could afford the prices. Far above the variety and selection of any pub or eatery in the city, even above most private clubs he’d visited here, so it seemed the perfect place.
He did not miss the absolute irony of the situation—as the owner of one of the most disreputable pubs in Edinburgh, his tastes did not deserve the food they would dine on this evening. But certainly the lady’s more refined tastes would be satisfied.
A quick look in the mirror as Paul completed tying his neckcloth reminded him just how far from the gutters of Glasgow he’d come. To him though, after the shock of that first glance, all he saw was how much more the man in that mirror still wanted.
And tonight, he would take the next steps to get what he wanted.
As he turned away, a shadow flickered in his reflection and all he could see was the memory of her face and the expression of sheer panic and desperate need the exact moment when her father’s presence had been announced. The vulnerability glimmering in her green eyes made him want to wrap her in layers of blankets and protect her from all that was bad in the world.
Unfortunately, he did not delude himself and understood that he was one of the bad things that threatened her.
He left his bedchamber and his house and was at the hotel at least twenty minutes earlier than when he expected Lady Clare to arrive. Everything was indeed prepared as he’d ordered, and he sipped on a glass of a very excellent brandy as he waited for her. Until he spotted her entering the dining room, he suspected she might beg off at any moment. And then...
She was here.
He stood and watched as the manager helped her off with her coat in the entry. A footman motioned her in Iain’s direction, and she looked past the man and noticed him. In spite of his plans to wait for her at the table, he found himself walking to meet her. Searching for any sign of reticence or fear, instead he found her gaze bright and curious as she glanced off to one side and then the other of the aisle through the other seating areas before he reached her.
“Lady Clare,” he said with a bow. “I am glad you accepted my invitation.” He stepped back and waited for her to follow the footman who waited to guide them back to their table. “Even if only part of my invitation.”
She waited until seated before saying anything at all, but the scent of her perfume wafted back to him with every step. Unsurprisingly, his body was a tense mess when he finally took his seat across from her.
“I have wanted to see the hotel since it opened,” she said, openly studying the dining room and those around them. “A bit nicer than the tavern down the street.”
“Do not tell me that Lady Clare Logan frequents the local taverns in New Town?” Nothing should surprise him about her. At least he was certain she did not show her noble face inhispub, though watching her, he thought she might even find it entertaining. Their food might not be the same as the fare served here, but it was not pig’s feed.
“More often the ones near the school in Leith,” she admitted in a low voice. “Though if you share that knowledge with Lady Nairn, I will never speak to you.”
Iain laughed. A waiter approached with an expectant expression and Iain asked her about wine.
“What are you drinking, Sir Iain?”
“Brandy, my lady.”
“The same, please.”
“My lady, we have a lovely—”
Iain interrupted. “Lady Clare will join me in a brandy.” How many glasses of brandy would it take to loosen her tongue? How many after that would it take before her inhibitions slipped? Her gaze narrowed at him, and Iain prayed he’d not spoken aloud.
“Unexpected, my lady.”
“I have been told that, Sir Iain.” One corner of her mouth, the left one, curved in a smile he could only describe as wicked and proud. “It is known that I have flouted expectations in my life. Having a brandy is a minor infraction after what I have done.”
The lady’s drink and a new one for him arrived and he held his up in the space between them. “To flouting expectations, Lady Clare.”
