“Well, I dunnae need anything from ye at the moment, Miss Harris, so I reckon I’ll decline.”
“You—you are a horrible man,” she sputtered.
“Now, then, I didnae say anything disparaging about ye when ye turnedmedown.” Sending her a swift grin mostly because he knew it would annoy her further, he walked away to claim Miss Alice Williams, who lisped but knew a great deal about their host and hostess and how the ball was especially extravagant this year because Sir Eldon had made a pair of bad investments in the Colonies and they didn’t want anyone to know just how badly off they were.
A few feet back from the dance floor Miranda Harris still stood, and still glared at him when she wasn’t looking toward shadows at the edges of the room. A pretty lad approached her, and she smiled as she sent him away—and the smile dropped from her face again.
At the end of the dance he parted from Miss Williams and then ducked into a side hallway. Working his way around to the other end of the ballroom, he slipped up behind Miranda Harris. As she glared about for him or some other menace, he leaned in a breath and caught the scent of her hair. Lemons. That suited her: bitter anddecisive. Of course, it was also a lovely scent, fresh and clean against the warm oppressive smell of the ballroom.
Aden stood still for a moment. It would serve her right, to demonstrate that he wasn’t nearly as charmless and despicable as she’d thought him before they’d ever met. To make her feel a little of the disappointment that touched him when he thought of never kissing her, never turning that scowl of hers into a laugh. He could damned well have done that, if she’d bothered to give him half a chance. So. Let the games begin. “Miss Harris.”
She flinched, then turned around. “Mr. MacTaggert.”
“I’ve nae partner for this waltz. Since ye want insight and I want to dance, I reckon a waltz is a fair solution.” He held out one hand. “Agreed?”
Squaring her shoulders, she set her white-gloved hand in his. “Agreed.”
“Ye look as if ye’ve just decided to stand in the street and let a coach run ye down,” he commented, noting that both Miss Pritchard and Miss Williams had partners for the waltz; the Sassenach bucks might call him a barbarian, but they were eager enough to follow behind him.
“Thank you,” Miranda returned crisply. “Very flattering. Just what a young lady wishes to hear when she’s at a grand ball.”
“If ye want compliments, ye’re going to have to be nicer to me. Fair is fair.”
They took a position on the dance floor close by where Niall and his Amy stood, and a few feet from Eloise and Matthew. Coll, as usual, wasn’t dancing, but had taken command of a table covered with breads and cheeses.
As the music began Aden put his hand on Miranda’s waist and stepped them into the dance. She had a grace about her, a confidence that made her movements fluid and seemingly effortless, a skill that most of his other partners for the evening had lacked. For once he didn’thave to keep himself poised, ready to catch a lass before she hit the floor if she should stumble.
“I don’t want compliments,” she finally said.
“Nae. Ye want insight, ye said. To what?”
“A man who wagers.”
“We’re all different, lass. Some of us arenae even particularly villainous. Ye’ll have to be more specific.”
“A man who is very skilled at wagering.” She took a breath, her gaze briefly lowering to his cravat. “One who might select a particular person, and intentionally work to put that person into a difficult position for a reason.”
The query surprised him. “That’s fairly specific. And still a wee bit vague. Who’s the target? What’s the difficult position?”
She shook her head. “None of your affair. I want to know what sort of man does this, and whether he can be reasoned with.”
With a brief frown, he considered. Clearly, she didn’t intend to give him any further information. Even so, her description was precise enough that she had a specific scenario in mind. And luckily enough for her, whatever he thought of her insults, he did enjoy a good puzzle.
“The sort of man who’d lure another man into ruin to get someaught he wants,” he mused aloud. “I reckon ye’ve answered yer own question, lass. What anyone else wants or needs doesnae concern him. Another man’s situation and pride doesnae concern him. He has a goal, if I’m hearing ye straight. As far as he’s concerned, he’s worked toward it, put up with someone whose skills dunnae come close to his own, spent his valuable time leading the fool into temptation, and he means to collect.”
As he spoke, Miranda’s fair complexion took on more than a hint of gray. None of this discussion was supposition or fancy, then. Someone she knew had gotten in too deep, and she wanted a way to get them out. “But reasoning with this person?” she countered. “It can’t be as pointless as you’re suggesting.”
Turning her in his arms, he shrugged. “Ye gave me two sentences, Miss Harris. In my experience, which is all I can go by, this lad wants whatever it is he played for. Find someaught else that interests him and convince him how that thing will benefit him more. Offer him a prettier prize, or one ye can convince him is more valuable.”
Her grip on his hand tightened, and she leaned into him a little. If not for her stated dislike of him and the blood gone from her face, he might have thought the move flirtatious. But this woman didn’t do flirtation, evidently; she remained direct. If she ever decided she liked him after all, she’d likely simply state that very thing to his face. Aden shortened his steps and firmed his grip on her hand and waist, keeping her secure until she got her feet beneath her again.
She lifted her face to look at him. “Thank you.”
Well, that was unexpected. He wasn’t about to let her know she’d surprised him, however, or that it hadn’t occurred to him not to support her. “I’ve a wife to find. I dunnae need to be known as the MacTaggert who makes lasses faint. I’ll leave that to Coll.”
“Even so.”
The dance ended, and since she still didn’t look quite steady on her legs, he carefully transferred her hand to his forearm so she’d have something to hang on to. “I like wagering,” Aden said, not certain whether he’d be better off confessing his sins or denying he had them. “I’m good at it. I’ve nae brought anyone else to ruin by it, and a time or two I’ve walked away from the table to keep from doing just that. If my insight helped ye then I’m glad of it; as I said, ye’re to be my sister-in-law, after all. But if ye want to hate me, I’m nae overly troubled by that, either, except to note that I did give ye my best dance just now.”
