Billings knocked at the open morning room door. “Miss Harris, a Mr. Aden MacTaggert has requested a brief word with you.”
“Aden MacTaggert? One of Eloise’s brothers?” hermother asked, setting aside her menu and rising. “Show him in, Billings.”
The butler moved sideways to allow the tall Scotsman entry. “Shall I fetch tea, ma’am?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Miranda interjected, pushing away the sudden flutter of hope and… warmth that jangled through her at Aden’s arrival. He’d offered nothing but witty repartee and some suggestions of scandalous ruination yesterday. Today he might well be there simply to posit that not all professional gamblers were blackhearted, and that perhaps she should give Captain Vale a chance to win her affections.
“Mr. MacTaggert,” her mother said, a wide smile on her face. “Matthew told us Eloise’s brothers were impressive sorts. I see he was not exaggerating.”
The Highlander inclined his head, strands of his poet-length black hair falling across one observant eye. Perhaps his appearance wasn’t as poetical as Miranda had originally thought; poets didn’t have that alert, coiled sense of alertness surrounding them, sinew and muscle and a keen awareness of… everything. Or perhaps she’d simply become delirious from lack of sleep.
“Ye’d be Mrs. Harris. I see ye in Matthew and Miss Harris, here,” Aden commented.
He’d worn his kilt and a pair of Hessian boots, which together with his proper blue jacket, cravat, and black waistcoat actually looked rather dashing—half civilized and half wild. Not that it mattered, because he was still the same man he’d been yesterday. Physically perhaps he could make a Greek god jealous, and mentally, well, he seemed to be a great deal sharper than she’d first expected, but morally… she didn’t want to quite equate him with Vale for reasons she couldn’t fathom, but neither could she tell where the difference might be.
But there he stood chatting about the weather andclearly charming Elizabeth Harris while he held a very large secret that could decimate the entire Harris family. However useless he’d been, she had given him a degree of trust, which put her in his hands. Miranda shook herself, hoping that she’d been correct in doing that, at least. “I only have fifteen minutes or so to spare, Mr. MacTaggert, as my afternoon is spoken for. What was it you needed?”
Aden faced her, six-foot-one of formidable, unreadable Highlander. “Ye’d mentioned that book the other night. I wondered if I might borrow it.”
Well, he could be discreet, then. A believable, innocuous reason for his presence and the suggestion of a location where they could speak in relative private. She nodded. “Of course. I’ll show you. Millie?”
As she left the room, her mother reached over and squeezed one elbow. “He’s delicious,” she whispered, grinning. “Whoever this Captain Vale is, he must be perfection to outmatch this Highlander.”
No, he wasn’t anywhere near that, and yet his appearance didn’t even signify. It was Vale’s black heart that troubled her. And Aden’s mysterious-colored one.
Miranda brushed past Aden and Millie to lead the way down the hall in the direction of the Harris House library. Once the three of them were inside the large, well-lit room she closed the door. “Have you thought of something after all?” she asked, facing him. “Or are you here to suggest that I surrender?”
“Do ye always go directly to the bleakest explanation, or is that just for me, lass?” he countered, walking over to peruse the contents of one bookcase.
“My world has become a bit bleak over the past few days. Don’t expect me to apologize for not showering you with compliments for whatever it is that’s brought you here. Yesterday you suggested I ruin myself, after all.”
Leaving the books, he returned to her, stopping closeenough that she had to lift her chin to meet his gaze. “Ye’re a sharp-tongued woman.”
She imagined she was, or she could be, though no one had ever dared say such a thing to her face before. “And you are a mannerless gambler.”
His mouth quirked, as if her insults had once again amused him. “And I didnae suggest ye ruin yerself. I suggested that I ruin ye. It’s more fun that way.”
How in the world was a lady supposed to respond to that? “I’ll take your word for that.”Good heavens.They certainly made them bold in the Highlands.
For now, aye.” He regarded her for a few hard beats of her heart.
Arrogant, insufferable or not, he was a very fine-looking man. Deliciously so, as her mother had said. It would have been silly to pretend that he wasn’t physically tempting, the stuff of heated dreams. But she didn’t have the luxury of dreams right now. “You still haven’t said why you’re here.”
“When ye go to yer luncheon with Captain Vale, ask him a couple of questions for me.”
“Ask him yourself.”
Aden tilted his head at her. “I have a different set of questions to ask him. These are better coming from ye. If ye say a couple falling in love would be learning things about each other, and that yer parents already have questions, ye can likely get him to chat. Ask about his parents, brothers or sisters, why he purchased a commission in the navy, what he thought of India, how he kept himself entertained, the name of the ship he captained, clever things he’s done—and anything that might give me some insight, a place to begin studying him.”
She looked at him, something very like hope stirring in her heart. “You mean to help me, then?”
“I’ll take a gander at him. Men wager for all kinds ofreasons, but a man deliberately destroying someone in order to steal a lass and a position has someaught wrong with him.I’dwager this isnae the first time he’s ruined a man to gain an advantage. But he’s been in India, ye said, and I’ve been in the Highlands, so I need to know where to begin looking for the skeletons following him about.”
Miranda nodded, her heart giving a hopeful little hop. She had no idea if he could actually be of assistance or not, but if he could be, and if he’d suddenly decided to be her ally, she’d be foolish not to do as he suggested. “I’ll find out whatever I can.”
“Be a wee bit cautious, lass. I reckon he has a high opinion of himself, but an idiot couldnae have orchestrated all this. That makes him a villain, but nae an idiot.” Aden brushed a straying strand of her hair off her forehead, the gesture seemingly innocuous except for the slight, pleasurable shiver it caused along her scalp. “Were ye pleasant to him yesterday, or did ye talk to him the way ye talk to me?” he went on, as if he hadn’t even noticed that he’d rather intimately touched her.
The caress didn’t mean anything, Miranda reminded herself. He must be proficient at distracting people, and he’d just attempted it with her, whether he realized it or not. Well, she would not be distracted. And in all honesty, she didn’t think she’d ever spoken to anyone else with the same… vigor she exercised in her conversations with Aden MacTaggert. “I was polite, I think,” she said aloud. “I did attempt to reason with him. Why?”
