“The two of ye are sweeter than a lump of sugar, ye ken,” he grumbled, and caught his younger brother by the shoulder. “If ye can manage it, ask a dance of Miranda Harris tonight,” he whispered.
Niall’s light-green eyes widened. “Is that who ye’ve been circling?” he returned in the same tone. “Ye—”
“I dunnae want a conversation,” Aden cut in, already moving on to find Coll. “Do it.”
“Aye. But we’re having a chat later.”
Coll had maneuvered himself into a large circle of lasses currently asking him to say their names in his so-called charming brogue. “Mary,” he drawled, emphasizing the “r” sound.
Good God.At least Coll had found a way to be less intimidating to the females of London. “Coll, ask a danceof Miranda Harris tonight,” he muttered, leaning in to keep his voice low.
“Aye, if ye’re sincere about her. Nae, if ye’re playing another game,” the viscount rumbled.
Aden stopped his retreat. Itwasa game, but not one he was playing with Miranda. “I’m sincere,” he said.
“I’ve a few more questions before I believe ye, but I’ll do as ye ask.”
So now he’d backed himself into an interrogation with both brothers. If that was the price for their assistance tonight, he’d pay it. The next dance, though, was the first waltz. And however little he’d dared tell Miranda about it, thanks to Vale’s arrogance in claiming both waltzes this evening, he had a plan.
Keeping his attention split between Vale and Miranda, he maneuvered around the edges of the room until only a small crowd stood between him and her. Saint Andrew she was lovely, in a deep-blue gown that glittered in the candlelight and bordered the deep neckline and short, puffy sleeves in matching blue lace. It was deceptively simple—the strategically scattered glass beads sewn throughout the gown were wee and likely very expensive, the effect subtle and eye-catching all at the same time.
Vale approached, and, snatching up a glass of something from someone who was looking elsewhere, Aden moved in just ahead of him. “Miranda,” he drawled, inclining his head, knowing Vale would see her face, the abrupt flush to her cheeks, “I’ve been looking for ye.”
“Mr. MacTaggert,” she returned, dipping a shallow curtsy and pretending they were barely acquainted as her eyes demanded to know if this was the plan he’d been concocting. “I hadn’t thought to see you here tonight.”
“Och, yer brother and my sister cannae be parted.Someone has to keep an eye on them. I’m happy to have the excuse to set eyes on ye again, though. Will ye waltz with me, bonny lass?”
“I—”
“She’s spoken for,” the vulture’s flat voice announced from behind him.
Aden turned around. At second glance his assessment of Captain Robert Vale didn’t alter; the man had the countenance of a raptor, deep-set brown-amber eyes, and a straight, thin-lipped mouth currently showing just the slightest hint of closed-mouth annoyance. Since like any proficient gambler he would have read every second of the expression on Miranda’s face, the frown would be for good reason.
“Ye again, Vane?” Aden asked, deepening his brogue just a wee bit. That was him, a mannerless, overbearing Highlander. “I thought ye’d have flown off to roost by now.”
“Captain RobertVale,” Vale returned, pointing out that he had a position of responsibility in the world and should therefore be respected. “This is my waltz.”
Aden turned his back on the man. “That so, lass? Ye gave the first waltz to Vale, here?”
Miranda’s eyes narrowed just a little as he silently urged her to play along. “Yes, I’m afraid so, Aden. He asked first.”
Good lass.“He,” notthe captainorRobert, while he, the interloper, received the honor of having his given name used. “Fair is fair then, I reckon,” he returned. “I’ve nae a mind to go the entire evening with nae a dance, though, so save me a spot, if ye dunnae—”
The music for the waltz began, thankfully before he ran out of nonsense to prattle on about. He shot a glance at the orchestra for effect, then hesitated a second beforehe moved out of Vale’s way. For the moment this was up to Miranda—and to a lesser extent, her damned brother.
If that was the totality of Aden’s plan to be rid of Captain Vale, he’d failed rather spectacularly. Attempting to claim a dance? As Vale put her hand over his forearm and led her into the center of the ballroom floor, Miranda risked a glance at Aden.
Generally, he made an appearance and then vanished into the nearest gaming room until required again. Tonight, however, he remained at the edge of the dance floor, a thoughtful expression on his lean face and his gaze on… her. He wasn’t being at all subtle, or clever, and she had no idea what to make of it.
“I told you to be rid of him,” Vale said stiffly, facing her and placing one cool hand on her hip.
She hated when he touched her. Stifling a shudder, she put her free hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t very well tell him we would never suit when he hasn’t suggested that we would.” Just because Aden had mentioned a few things she might choose to say about him, it didn’t mean she meant to simply volunteer everything. As the Highlander had pointed out previously, if she made things too easy, the captain would become suspicious.
“And yet he seems to think youwouldsuit, or he wouldn’t be dogging your heels. I told you to do something about him. The fact that you haven’t turned him away does not put me in a jolly mood.”
“While I don’t give a single damn about your mood, Captain,” she returned, picking her words carefully as she spoke, “that is one of the MacTaggert brothers. Eloise’s brothers. My soon-to-be in-laws.”
“And your point is?”
