“What do ye think of being improper, lass?” he murmured, shifting a little to kiss her again, his caress gentle and intimate and achingly tender.
That kiss alone might have made her fall for him, if she hadn’t been halfway there already. Her, with a Highlander. It was nearly as absurd as her marrying a sea captain. These MacTaggerts had upended all of London, and she, for one, found that fascinating. “I would say,” she whispered back, “that being improper in private is quite… exhilarating.”
“That’s a grand word for it. Ye do make my heart beat faster, Miranda Grace.”
“And how do you know my middle name?” she asked, actually not surprised he’d found it out. She knew his, after all.
“I asked Eloise.”
That made her smile. “So did I, Aden Domnhall MacTaggert. She said you and your brothers are all named after Scottish kings of old.”
“Aye. Niall Douglas, after James the Black Douglas—because our da thought James sounded too English. Coll has Arthurius, whom I reckon ye know as King Arthur, the lad with the round table. There were at least three Domnhalls, but with the spelling of mine I reckon I’m actually called after my great-great, who was made the first Earl of Aldriss Park by yer Henry the Eighth for agreeing that a man should keep after finding a wife who could bear him a son.”
Miranda snorted. “You’re teasing me.”
“Nae. Ask any MacTaggert, and they’ll tell ye the same. But who is Grace to ye,boireannach gaisgeil? A mighty queen? A bonny warrior lass?”
Her smile deepened, even as it occurred to her that she’d never thought to have a conversation like this, lying cozily in bed with the man who’d just taken—plundered—her virginity without first being made her husband. “Grace Harris was my father’s grandmother. From the stories I’ve heard she was very fond of cats, and owned at least two dozen of them.”
“Aye? Did she ever milk them to make cheeses?”
“Cheeses? Cat milk cheeses? What are you—”
“Och, nae ye mind. I know an old man on our land in the Highlands who makes cat cheeses.”
She had no idea whether he was jesting or not. “How does he milk them?”
“I’ve nae seen it. Coll has, and he says it’s a wee bit disturbing.” Aden slid his arm around her back, pulling her closer against his chest. “I dunnae want to talk about cats, Miranda. If Vale has any sense at all, he willnae give ye up, nae out of kindness. I will set ye free from him, lass. I swear it, by Saint Andrew.”
Miranda frowned. Did he want her free, or free to be with him? Perhaps that was a silly question under the circumstances, but it mattered to her. “You shouldn’t swear something when you can’t be certain of the outcome, however noble your intentions.”
“Noble, are they?” he returned, cupping one of her breasts. “But that doesnae signify. I swore by Saint Andrew, so that’s that. I’d nae be a Highlander if I took back an oath to the patron saint of Scotland.”
His touch was making it difficult to concentrate. “Aden, you’ve asked me to trust you, and I do. I think I just proved that. But thus far all you’ve done is let Vale know you’re a rival, belittle him in public, and break into my house. None of those things rescue me from his… his dastardly clutches. You could ruin me a hundred times, and while I would certainly enjoy it, my problem remains.”
“A hundred times isnae enough.”
Her cheeks warmed. “What is your plan? Do you have one? How am I a part of it? What should I be doing? What happens if he arrives on my doorstep tomorrow with a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury?”
Aden turned onto his back, pulling her up over his chest so they were eye-to-eye, with her looking down at him. “If I had the time, I’d twist Captain Vale about like a windmill, until he didnae ken up from down. But we dunnae have time, so I reckon I’ll go at him head-on. I’m nae certain yet of the details, but I’ve got nearly seventypercent of a plan. And because ye’re a horrid liar, my lass, there are parts of it I dunnae wish to tell ye.”
“So I’m to put everything into your hands and trust you with my life. With my family’s future.”
His gaze held hers, no trace of humor in his eyes at all. “I lost a card trick to ye. I made ye a promise. Now I’ve sworn an oath to ye. I’ve tasted ye, taken ye, and I’m still here, unwilling to part from ye. So tell me what else ye require of me, Miranda Grace Harris, and I’ll give it to ye.” He took a slow breath. “I ken it’s all just words, and since I’m being honest, I’ll tell ye that I prefer to avoid trouble. I slip away, no one the wiser. And I ken that ye came to find me because ye thought me a villain. Th—”
“I didn’t think you were a villain,” she interrupted, unwilling to let that pass by without comment. “I thought you were heartless, as all gamblers must be. But I don’t think I could like anyone heartless. And I do like you.”
That made him grin, before his serious face reappeared. “I hope ye mean that, lass, because I’m nae here for…” He paused, a brief frown furrowing his brow. “A gambler’s reputation is everything to him. A reputation means when ye sit at a table the other players lose just because they cannae concentrate with either trying to figure ye out, or worrying how much they’re about to lose. A reputation is more important than skill, in the end. Ye ken?”
She nodded. Though she wasn’t quite certain what his point might be, the information felt… invaluable. On her own, without him as her partner, something like a man’s reputation all on its own affecting his success at the table wouldn’t have occurred to her. “We’re going to destroy Vale’s reputation, I presume?”
“Aye. Someaught like that. I’ll tell ye when I’ve enough facts to face the argument ye’ll give me. Will ye trust me that far?”
At this moment, with him in her bed, she would trust him with anything. Miranda kissed his cheek. “I will.”
“Good. I reckon I need ye to poke as many holes in my plan as possible. That’s the only way to be sure it’s seaworthy.” He stroked a hand down, between her legs, and she arched against his hand before she even realized she was doing it. “But I’m nae there yet, and it seems a shame to waste the rest of the night, doesnae?”
“Oh yes, it does,” she agreed, and then couldn’t speak as his fingers dipped into her. No, she didn’t want to waste any of this. Or any time with him. Because however much trust she had, Vale had at least as much of a reputation as Aden did, and at the moment the captain held every single card. Every card except her heart.
