“Oh, dear,” Eloise muttered, and vanished in the direction of the stairs.
“Och, she’s going to tell Coll and Niall,” he muttered.
“You’re doing this for me, Aden,” Miranda persisted. “You shouldn’t be the only one taking a risk.”
“I—”
“Ye’re nae going alone,” Coll said from the doorway, Eloise a slender shadow behind him.
Aden glared at the giant blocking all the light fromthe hall. Beside him Miranda looked from one MacTaggert brother to the other. He could see the sense in not going alone, but he also knew who stood to gain or lose the most from this plan of his. “Ye’re right,” he returned. “I’m nae going alone. Miranda’s coming with me.”
“Y—”
“I’ve nae more time to argue.” Walking to the bedside table, he lowered the lantern still further, till it barely managed any light at all. “We’re going out the window,” he said, moving over to the opening and pulling open the curtains again. “The idea is to be unnoticed. Ye and Niall and the lasses go into the front room and make some noise. We’re all home, and we’re celebrating me setting Vale on his arse.”
With a muttered curse, Coll reached back for Eloise’s hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Ye heard him,piuthar. Come sing us a song.”
With a glare that told Aden he’d best know what he was about, the viscount closed the door to leave Aden and Miranda alone in his bedchamber. “On another day, I wouldnae be using this moment to climb out a window,” Aden muttered, catching her mouth for a quick kiss. “Now. Let me climb down first,” he went on, releasing her and taking the old knife out of his bed stand to shove it into his boot. “Watch how I do it. If ye fall, I’ll catch ye.”
“Thank you,” Miranda said, her voice catching.
“Well, we’re partners. Aye, lass?”
She smiled, a tear running down one cheek before she wiped it away. “Aye.”
Shaking himself loose of thoughts of Miranda and forever, Aden walked over and ducked out the window, using the trellis and drainpipe to climb to the ground and taking more care than he generally did since Miranda was watching and would be using his descent as her example.
“Come along, lass,” he whispered. “One foot at a time.”
“I should have put on trousers,” came floating down to him as she found her footing on the trellis.
“But then I couldnae look at yer legs.”
“Aden.”
“A little to the left lass, and dunnae catch up yer skirt,” he countered, positioning himself below her and not feeling the least bit of guilt at looking up to see those long, pretty legs. The idea that he had the slightest chance of waking up every morning with her warm, lithe body in his arms… He shook those soft thoughts out of his head—he hadn’t won this game yet.
When she was close enough, he reached up and caught hold of one slender ankle to guide her down to the ground. “My da warned me about falling for a soft, hothouse flower of a Sassenach lass,” he murmured when she stepped back and turned around to face him. He plucked a flower petal from her dark hair. “All delicate and fainting and helpless.”
She grinned up at him, a smudge of dirt across her nose. “Did he, now?” she returned, tangling her fingers into his lanky hair and pulling his face down for a kiss.
He could drown in her smile, he decided. “Aye,” he whispered, lifting his head. “Now let’s go rescue ye.”
In her wildest dreams Miranda couldn’t have conjured anything remotely like this. Hand in hand with a tall, kilt-wearing Highlander, slipping from shadow to shadow along the streets of Mayfair with only the moonlight and the scattered, flickering glow of oil lamps to light the way.
She couldn’t detect anyone watching Oswell House, but she didn’t doubt that Vale had someone lurking there. He’d known the moment Aden had returned from Portsmouth, and he’d known her to be dining at Oswell House.
Three streets away from the grand house they approached a small park dominated by a grand old oak tree, one of the huge branches split from the trunk and hanging almost to the ground. Aden let out a low whistle, making her jump.
Three shadows, two of them horse-shaped, separated from the tree. “Bloody stable master tried to rob me,” a deep Scottish voice said in the dimness. “Said he reckoned if I needed two horses at this time of night it wasnae for anything good, and I could pay him double or go elsewhere.”
“Did ye convince him otherwise?” Aden asked, ducking beneath the hanging branches.
“Aye, but we’ll nae be able to rent horses from him again.” A stout man in a groom’s jacket and worn boots, together with a kilt in the MacTaggert plaid, stepped into the moonlight. He looked over at her and stopped. “Ye didnae tell me ye’d have a proper lass with ye. I shouldnae have said ‘bloody,’ I reckon. Begging yer pardon, miss.”
“I wasn’t offended,” she returned. “There’s no need to apologize.”
“Well, I only fetched two mounts, as Master Aden asked, and nae one trained for the sidesaddle, so Idoneed to apologize, even though I wasnae told ye’d be here.”
