Chapter Twenty
“You’ve lost your bloody mind,” Ramsey remarked, again, for Heathcliff’s benefit.
“A promise is a promise,” Heathcliff replied, his tone impatient and beleaguered. “It won’t take long, but I just wanted you to know in case you saw her about.”
“I won’t be seeing her because you have no business bringing her here! Do you know what she’ll do? She’ll find it fascinating, devour each scandalous idea and then sneak here just like Lucas’s wife and we’ll have a bloody mess all over again!” Ramsey threw up his hands as he paced about Heathcliff’s office at Temptations.
Ramsey paused his pacing to cast a glare at his friend, who didn’t remotely look as concerned as he should. “You mark my words.”
“They are marked.” Heathcliff sighed. “Would you rather her spend more of her time with Lord Westhouse? Is this truly such an ill trade?” Heathcliff asked, arching a brow as he watched his friend.
Ramsey didn’t have a proper response to such a logical question. He was feeling rather illogical at the moment. Everything about Miss Grace had him in knots, all rationality was tossed out the window, and he simply reacted.
It all had been a domino effect from that first kiss.
And it had been tumbling down around his ears ever since.
Especially since he kept restarting the whole damned effect by thinking, dwelling, and reliving the bloody kiss.
He cast a glance to Heathcliff, thankful that he couldn’t read minds. That would be a holy disaster on top of another. “I still think it’s a terrible idea,” Ramsey added, just because it bore saying again.
“You’ve mentioned that,” Heathcliff reminded him.
“When are you bringing her?” Ramsey asked the question but it came out more of a growl than an actual query. He ran his fingers through his hair and tensed as he listened to the answer.
“This afternoon. It will be deserted and she can answer a little of her curiosity and move on,” Heathcliff answered, his expression clearly indicating that he didn’t see what all the fuss was about.
Ramsey studied him. How was it that he was so dense? It truly was a mystery. The moment that Miss Grace stepped into Temptations her curiosity would not be satisfied, but would be roused to a whole new level of irritating and insatiable. She wouldn’t stop after seeing it for a few moments in broad daylight. No. She’d simply create more questions, which would lead to deeper questions, which would mean she would not get the answers she sought, because while Heathcliff was inexcusably dense, he wasn’t a fool, and so she’d simply decide to find a way to uncover the answers herself. It was a bloody mess and it hadn’t even happened yet! How did Heathcliff not see the ruin that waited? The disaster?
“You look quite deranged,” Heathcliff remarked as if commenting on the color of his coat.
“I’m feeling it,” Ramsey told him. “No thanks to you.”
Heathcliff tipped his chin to the side, evaluating Ramsey. “Need I remind you that she ismyward? Not yours.”
“Thank God,” he replied with more feeling than necessary for such a statement.
Heathcliff rolled his eyes.
Ramsey released a breath. So far he had dodged suspicion.
But he knew his luck would last only so long.
Just another thing to cause him to be frustratingly tense.
All for a woman.
But wasn’t it always about a woman? Empires could rise and fall over one woman. Mighty men would fight wars. As much as mankind had become more civilized, much had remained the same.
Women created mayhem.
In mind, body, and country.
“Anything else to add before I go and collect her?” Heathcliff asked as he headed toward the door.
Ramsey was tempted to say a great many things, but in the end, he knew nothing would matter or change his friend’s mind. Might as well just be done with the whole sordid mess and then he would have the satisfaction of telling his friend that he had warned him, just before all hell broke loose. It wasn’t a soothing idea, but it did validate Ramsey enough to simply shake his head and watch his friend depart.
After about a quarter hour, Ramsey had the miserable feeling of indecision overtake him. Should he go? Should he stay? He wasn’t quite certain since every option had different negative potential. If he left, then he wouldn’t be tempted by Miss Grace, and he would simply avoid the whole mess altogether. But . . . if he left and she got into some scrape, or dodged Heathcliff—he wouldn’t put it past her to evade her guardian in efforts to explore—then his presence would be necessary to avoid greater peril. Heathcliff was to bring her in the afternoon and it was creeping dangerously closer every moment. But afternoon was only a few hours away from evening, and that was when all the . . . activity . . . began. Heaven help them if Heathcliff couldn’t get her off the premises before preparations for the evening began in earnest.
