“‘Partner,’” she repeated. “I like that. But what, praytell, do you get from this partnership? There must be something you want.”
You.“Aye. Ye…” He searched for something to say that wouldn’t start her panicking that she had two inveterate gamblers hunting her down. “Ye ken the ways of London Society. Coll and I had a good laugh when some fool set out three forks and two knives for dinner one night, and then we used them all for a venison pie with some odd sort of white sauce and wee sliced potatoes, and we’d nae forks left for cake. Help me navigate this sea of nonsense, and I’ll call us even.”
Miranda lifted one curved eyebrow. “That’s what you want in return? Lessons on the order of forks?”
If that was all he wanted, he wouldn’t be standing there, imagining kissing her. Imagining her in his bed, and him inside her. “Nae, but I reckon that’ll do. For now.”
For a moment she walked silently beside him. “Considering that aiding you will help keep Vale away from me, I would be a fool not to agree.”
“Ye’re nae a fool, so shake my hand. Partners.”
Stopping, he freed his arm from hers and stuck out his hand. Her gaze on his fingers, she nodded as if to herself and closed her smaller hand around his. Even through the gloves her fingers were warm, her grip firm. Aye, she was a practical lass. Practicality said she needed to accept his help, and therefore she’d done so. Wondering abruptly if that practicality was why she flirted and didn’t slap him for his less-than-proper suggestions, he decided it didn’t signify. It was likely his own well-honed sense of self-preservation stepping in. He’d keep his eyes open anyway, because he generally wasn’t a fool, either.
Aden glanced up and down the street, to find it temporarily empty. Before he could decide he was being an idiot, that no amount of stealth or practical experiencewould be able to extricate him from this, he leaned down and touched his mouth to hers.
She had soft lips and tasted faintly of tea, and something… undefinable shuddered through him. He allowed himself a long moment of heaven, less gentle than he could have been, and less thorough than he wanted to be, before he straightened again. Even the devil must have missed harp music now and again—and he’d just heard it loud and clear. “That’s how we seal a bargain in the Highlands,” he drawled with a nonchalance he didn’t feel.
For a moment he thought he’d finally earned a slap after all, but then she took half a step back and he realized she’d gone up on her toes to kiss him back. And whatever else he might discover today about plots and villains,thatseemed the most significant. She’d met him halfway.
“I, um, I very much doubt that you kiss everyone with whom you make an agreement,” she stated, her chocolate gaze lowering to his mouth and her color high. “It’s not done, Mr. MacTaggert.”
“Is that so?”
Miranda nodded. “As your tutor in things English,” she continued, “I should tell you that it’s improper for you to go about kissing women under any circumstances.”
Amused now, he lifted an eyebrow. “Any?” he repeated.
“Well, wives and such. But not in public.” Visibly shaking herself, she placed her hand back over his forearm. “But you didn’t come here this afternoon for kissing lessons.”
“I dunnae need kissing lessons, Miranda. I can prove that, if ye like.”
“I believe you just did.”
“And do ye object?”
“I…” Her shoulders lifted. “I believe I would have told you if I objected.”
He chuckled. “True enough. Ye’ve nae been shy about expressing yerself, lass.”
She didn’t object.Not exactly a stirring expression of enthusiasm, but enough for today. Every kiss, every glance, every word exchanged with Miranda Harris had significance. He damned well didn’t want to make a mistake. His parents had made one, had found fire and passion and then realized that beneath that, they were utterly incompatible.
They managed a few steps during which he took the time to study her profile, or what he could see of it around her straw bonnet. His fingers twitched with the abrupt desire to untie the green ribbons from beneath her chin and pull the silly thing from her dusky hair. Those wishes, though, were for a lass who didn’t have a man attempting to force her into a marriage. He could be poetical later.
“Did Vale tell ye anything else useful?” he asked, when he realized he’d forgotten about that. Stupid. He couldn’t afford to miss anything here. Anything could mean the difference between victory and disaster.
This time a grimace touched her face. “Yes. Back to that, then.”
“It’s important, but if ye’d rather chat about the weather, I’ll walk beside ye all the way to Dover.”
“I’m not wearing the shoes for that.” She took a breath. “After hearing that last bit about George and him, I fear that everything else he told me may well have been a lie.”
“Even a lie means someaught. Tell me.”
“He said he originally purchased a junior lieutenant’s commission in the navy some fourteen years ago. Then he implied that powerful people owed him favors, and that that was the reason he so quickly rose through the ranks to become a captain with his own ship.”
It wouldn’t have to be powerful people, as long as it was the right people. That, though, didn’t make for asgood a tale. “Did he tell ye the name of the last ship he captained?”
“Yes. It was theMerry Widow.”
