“Go at him in that same way. Polite, looking for an escape, but also hoping to be impressed by him if ye cannae see a way out of this. If ye’re too fawning ye’ll make him suspicious, and if ye’re too hostile ye may convince him to do someaught ye’ll regret.”
It all made sense, even if the idea of a long conversation with Captain Vale left her feeling distinctly queasy.“While I’m convincing him that I’m reluctantly amenable to a match, and when you’ve learned who he is, what do you mean to do, Mr. MacTaggert? This would all seem to rely on me trusting you, and on you being trustworthy.”
“Aye, I reckon it does.” He took half a step closer so that she had to lift her chin to keep her eyes on his face. “Ye keep batting at me, and I keep returning for more. Mayhap I see a kinship with a lass being pushed to marry against her wishes, or mayhap I like ye more than ye like me.” He shrugged. “Or mayhap ye won a wager and I’m paying ye what I owe ye.”
She held his gaze. What she’d heard about him, specifically his wagering, hadn’t impressed her, because nothing about wagering did anything but dismay her to her bones. The man himself, though, wasn’t nearly as easy to dismiss. A sharp-eyed poet or a Highlands warrior, Aden MacTaggert made an impression. She didn’t feel uneasy or threatened in his presence, but she did feel more… aware. Alert. Exhilarated. His wit, his insight, kept her on her toes. That bit of him, at least, she almost enjoyed. And of course his face, his attire, his physique, even his careless hair, only added to his appeal. The fact that at least the part of it he could control might be deliberate just made him seem more dangerous.
Taking a slow breath, she nodded. “As you’ve given yourself a trio of possible explanations, I have a trio of responses. I am hopeful, cautious, and willing to attempt just about anything if it helps me escape this trap. I’ll even put a small degree of faith in you, if you give me your word that you won’t wake up tomorrow feeling less generous and abandon me.”
“I give ye my word, then,” he returned without a trace of hesitation. “I’ll nae abandon ye without making a fight of it.” He stuck out his right hand.
He couldn’t promise success, of course; that wouldbe ridiculous, and she wouldn’t have trusted it. Matthew hadn’t promised a fight, or even an argument, with Captain Vale. In fact, he’d hurried off this morning again before she could even set eyes on him. Miranda reached out and grasped Aden’s hand, large, callused, and steady. In response something warm and electric trailed slowly up her spine. “Thank you, Mr. MacTaggert.”
“We’re allies now; ye’d best call me Aden,” he drawled, keeping hold of her hand for a good dozen seconds before he released her again.
“Miranda,” she returned. “Thank you, Aden.”
His name on her tongue felt intimate, almost as if they’d kissed. That thought then made her cheeks heat, because she certainly had other, more important things to consider than what it would be like to kiss Aden MacTaggert—who either felt some empathy, owed her for a lost wager, or… liked her.
“Miranda,” he said, heading for another bookcase.
Her name in his brogue, with the soft, rolled “r” and the elongated first “a,” sounded rather splendid, but he likely knew that, just as he knew his large-muscled, soulful appearance made people, players across the table, underestimate just how keen-eyed he truly was. She shook herself. For the moment, at least, he and his surprisingly acute perception were her allies. “Which book am I lending you, then?”
He pulled one down from the shelf and opened it. “I reckon this one’ll do. I’ve been meaning to read it.”
Approaching, she looked at the tome he held. “The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling,” she read aloud, and blushed again. “I’m fairly certain I would not have recommended such a scandalous book to anyone.”
With a grin that made her insides feel bubbly, he tucked the Henry Fielding book beneath one arm. “If anyone asks, then, I wanted to read about being a Sassenach, andye were being sarcastic.” He pulled a pocket watch from his coat and clicked it open. “Vale will be here soon. I reckon I’ll say hello to him on my way out.”
The unexpected warmth tingling through her cooled into ice. “No!”
Aden lifted one eyebrow. “And why should I nae? Ye and I are nearly in-laws, aye?”
That was true, yes, but he was her secret.
The thought startled her a little. First of all, he’d agreed to assist her. Therefore, she should be following his advice and whichever plan he’d begun to lay out, at least until she had her own ideas regarding strategy and battle. “Vale thinks I’m alone in this,” she said, choosing her words as she deciphered them in her mind. “Isn’t it to our advantage for him to continue to believe that?”
“Aye. And he will. I only want a look at him.” He took a step closer, his gaze lowering for just a second to her mouth before he lifted it again. “I gave ye and yer ma my reason for being here. That’s why I’m here. Dunnae lie about me; he’ll likely ask yer brother, and Matthew’s bound to say I’m known to gamble.”
Miranda found herself nodding. If she couldn’t trust him to be helpful, it seemed best to discover that now, rather than after she’d begun relying on anything he said or did. “Very well. On your way out.”
“I may embarrass ye a bit, but then I’m a mannerless Highlander.”
His swift grin was the only hint that he might be jesting with her. Or not. “I still wish I knew why you decided to help me,” she said in a low voice, opening the library door.
He put his hand out to stop her and half closed the door again. “So do I. But I reckon we both ken it wasnae the wager.”
That left two remaining choices: empathy or affection.As Miranda watched him lean back against the wall, his gaze through the cracked-open door in the direction of the foyer, she didn’t know which she preferred. Empathy seemed more reliable, if he saw his own situation mirrored in hers and wanted at least one of them to be able to escape.
The other one… Well, he’d only said that perhaps he liked her more than she liked him, and four days ago she had declared to his face that she detested him. “Like” was therefore a very broad category in this circumstance. In truth, she liked him a bit more than she had yesterday, because he’d bothered to come see her. It didn’t mean anything romantic, even if everything about him seemed pure sin.
A large shadow passed by the window panels at one side of the front door and stopped. He was here. Miranda’s hands clenched before she was aware of it, and she forced her fingers to uncurl as Billings pulled open the front door to admit Captain Vale. They exchanged a word or two, and the butler turned to approach the library.
“Now,” Aden said quietly, pushing away from the wall and reaching past her to pull the door wide. “If I’d any idea I was being scandalous,” he went on in a normal tone, “I’d nae have announced the book I was after in front of my mother this morning. Ye should have told me ye were being sarcastic, Miranda.”
She rushed her thoughts to catch up to him, taking a second to note how unusual it was for her to be behind in a conversation with anyone. “I didn’t think you would actually turn up asking to read it,” she returned aloud, flashing him a smile as they headed toward the front of the house.
“Ye mean ye didnae think I could read.” Glancing ahead of them, he slowed. “Och, someone’s let a vulture loose inside the house. Ye, butler. Get me a broom.”
