“Highlander, you’ve lost your four shillings,” wee Basker chortled. “And so’ve you, you damned cross patch.”
“That would be me,” Crowley commented, finishing off his beer and rising. “Time to call it an evening. My Mary will be expecting me home anyway.”
Aden had spent some time reading through Grose’sDictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, and it had proved to be invaluable at interpreting what the blue devil most of these Sassenach were talking about. He’d have to look up “cross patch” again, but he was fairly certain it meant peevish—and would better describe Basker than Crowley.
He finished off his beer and left the tavern, as well. From the church bells it was just past midnight, still early for partygoers and gamblers, but he clearly wasn’t going to find what he sought in the cheap taverns and inns on the fringes of Mayfair and Knightsbridge. If he wanted to learn how Vale played, who he targeted, which games he favored, he needed to get closer before he was ready to sit across the table from the man. And that meant true gentlemen’s clubs—places where his father had vowed never to set foot even if they would have him. Places Coll would detest, with all the pretty lordlings pretending to be consequential.
How, then, did a Highlander with blue blood but no high-ranking English relations of the male persuasion manage to get through the doors of Boodle’s or White’s or Brooks’s club?
He blew out his breath, which fogged in the chill night air. Slipping in and out of places suited him. Frequenting ratty gaming hells like the Round Cow barely earned him a glance or two. A club, however, meant introductions,exposure, and speculation. Entanglements. Owing favors. Obligations. Then again, he’d chosen his path. He would set Miranda free so that he could claim her for himself.
Collecting Loki, he patted the chestnut on the withers and swung into the saddle, heading north and east toward Oswell House. It was nearly scandalous to see himself returning this early in the evening, but clearly he wasn’t much in the mood for another gambling hell tonight. Not unless he wanted to lose his shirt and kilt because he couldn’t pay attention to anything but how damned fetching Miranda Harris had looked earlier, and how something warm and soft had woken in his chest when he’d kissed her. He’d tasted her, and he wanted more. He wanted her.
Like Robert Vale, he’d found a prize he wanted. Unlike Vale, he wasn’t willing to ruin lives to steal it. Well, one life, aye. But Robert Vale deserved it.
“There ye are,” Coll said, straightening from one of the gateposts as Aden and Loki trotted up to the Oswell House stable.
“Why were ye waiting out here?” Aden asked, swinging out of the saddle and handing the chestnut over to Gavin. “Ye ken I’m nae generally back here till much closer to dawn.”
“I had a thought.”
Aden lifted an eyebrow. “Well, I can see how that would render ye senseless and send ye out wandering into the dark after midnight, then.”
“A clever tongue willnae keep me from leveling ye, Aden.” Coll moved between him and the side entrance of the grand house. “What if we convince Matthew Harris that he doesnae wish to be part of this family? He’s young yet, and I imagine if he has any sense, he’s half ready to piss himself at the sight of us anyway.”
“Ye’d break our sister’s heart, then?” Aden returned,regardless of the fact that he could currently end Eloise and Matthew’s engagement with half a dozen carefully chosen words.
“If we can convincehimto break off the engagement, she willnae be blaming us.”
“Her heart still gets broken, Coll.”
“Ye’re suddenly a romantic, then? Did ye get hit in the head?”
“Someaught like that,” Aden said. “I’ve nae wish to marry an English lass at someone else’s command,” he returned, unable to keep from conjuring a twinkling pair of dark-brown eyes. “But I’d rather reason with Francesca than risk Eloise’s heart because I’m nae willing to risk mine.”
The viscount blew out his breath. “It’s nae aboutmyheart. Every damned lass I’ve met here would blow over in a stiff breeze. I’ll nae be hung for murder if I try to kiss one.”
“Ye said ye meant to wed one and leave her behind anyway, so what does it matter if the wind or your mighty kiss topples her?”
“I suppose it doesnae, but—”
“Ye’ve changed yer mind.” Aden squinted one eye.
Coll frowned. “Nae. I—”
“Aye, that’s it. Ye’ve seen how doe-eyed Niall and Amy are, and ye ken ye could make do with being in love. A shame, then, that all the London lasses reckon ye’re a giant boulder-hurling demon.”
“I’m a tall man with shoulders wide enough to hold me up,” his brother retorted. “And I’m a Highlander. I could say the same about ye, and lasses arenae running from ye.”
“Ye were cruel to Amy on the first night ye met her. I dunnae think she’s spoken about it, but there was an entire herd of Sassenach around ye.”
“I didnae want to marry Amy. I apologized to her. And she found Niall, so there’s nae harm. Hell, we’re all living under the same bloody roof.” Coll’s frown deepened. “Even surrounded by lasses, ye’re as far from being married as I am. I smell the cigar smoke and beer on ye. Ye’ve nae been at some fancy soiree dancing the quadrille. Ye’ve been at one of yer gaming hells, and there’s nae a marriable lass in one of those.”
Aden jabbed a finger into his giant of a brother’s shoulder. When he was ready to discuss Miranda Harris, he would do so. But that wasn’t tonight. “Ye’re the one least likely to wed, and so I’ll nae be bothering to find a bride until ye’ve secured one. No sense me ruining my life when ye’re going to break the agreement and render us and all of Aldriss destitute.”
“One of these days ye’re going to clever yerself into someaught ye cannae escape,bràthair,” Coll muttered. “Ye’ll nae be so amused when it’s ye on the gallows with a rope tight about yer neck.”
“Mm-hm.”
