“So can Missy, but you never got bloody because of her. Think hard, boy. The redhead surprised you, didn’t she? Smarter and more capable than you thought.”
That was certainly true.
“She’s the first in a long while that has done that to ye. And she’s got yer pisser all perky, don’t she?”
He glowered at her coarse language. “That may be, but I’m well past the time when my cock rules my head.”
“That you are. So she’s smart, you respect her skills, and you like her looks. That wouldn’t be enough to sway you, boy, but then you’ve got the one thing you inherited from your mother.”
He frowned. His mother had passed when he was seven. He barely remembered her except in the tales that his relatives told. “What’s that?” he asked.
She tapped his chest. “You’ve got her soft heart. And that Scottish miss has a problem. A big one, most likely, and you’re thinking you’re the only one who can save her.”
He turned away. He hadn’t been thinking that. In truth, he’d been thinking that there must be a Scotsman who was better suited to taking on her uncle. Though from the looks of things, her clan was filled with brutish men all aligned against her. Connall Aberbeag had sponsored her to London, but then he’d gone off with his new bride. If the man were going to help more, he probably would have done it already.
And, come to think of it, if there were a Scotsman to help her, Iseabail would have found him already. The woman was resourceful enough to look close. Instead, she traveled over four hundred miles to London. A waste of time, he thought, because who among the prissytonwould be able to handle a man with a claymore, much less a band of them? Not a one. They might do well in a boxing ring, but against real weapons in a real fight? Most of these dandies would piss themselves as they ran away.
He sighed. Iseabail was in trouble, and he was likely the only person she knew who had a chance to help.
“There it is,” said his aunt, as she pointed to his nose. “You’re thinking what you can do for her.”
“And why not?” he shot back. “She’s got five hundred gold coins to pay if I do.” Not to mention a profitable market that would bring in a great deal more if properly managed.
“Ye don’t need the coin.”
He didn’t. But he certainly knew how to use it.
His aunt busied herself by setting the kettle to boil. He noted that she was scrimping on the coal in the bin. She was too old to be pinching her pennies that way, but then he reminded himself that she had just hired two new apprentices without consulting him. If she wanted to put her coin into new employees, then he couldn’t say a word about the nearly empty coal bin.
But it was hard to hold his tongue. He wanted her to live in comfort, but he had to respect her choices. And so she would tell him if she caught him looking—
“I know what I’m about,” she said. “I don’t need you nosing into my books, and I don’t want anyone telling me how to live.”
“And if you run into trouble?”
“Then you can say, ‘I told you so.’”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t want to say that. I want you to be warm at night.”
Instead of answering, she turned her head at some noise downstairs. “They’ll be coming up here soon. What are you going to tell her?”
He didn’t know. The last thing he wanted to do was rush off to Scotland to teach an evil uncle a lesson. But if Iseabail was right, Reuben had just destroyed his chances of marrying into theton. Not many young ladies wanted a man with blood on his hands.
“It’s a simple equation, Reuben. You’ve got feelings for her, so you want to help her. Ask yourself: is this twitching in your loins something for today or will it last?” She cocked her head. “Meaning, will you get bored of her when her trouble’s done?”
He glared at her. He did not want to discuss his loins with his aunt or anyone else for that matter, but the question was a good one. If he admitted he felt an attraction to Iseabail—indeed, how could he deny it?—then he had to know if it was a passing thing or not.
He sighed. “It’s not love, if that’s what you’re getting at.” He’d fallen in love a time or two in the past. Hot, lusty affairs that fogged his mind and consumed his coin. The first two ended the moment his purse was empty. Thank heaven he hadn’t made his fortune yet. The third had been longer. It might have lasted, though they’d been so young, it was hard to know. She died in his arms of a fever, and he’d stopped thinking of love from that day on.
“Because yer too sensible for love.”
She was mocking him, but he answered it honestly. “Because I am not in love with her. I am too calm for that. I have not spent days and nights dreaming of her. I have no wish to marry her or see my babes in her arms.”
He said that with confidence though his words brought those very thoughts to mind. She would be a good mother, and they would have smart, beautiful children. She would teach her children poise, and he would teach them prudence. His fortune was built upon knowing when to leap and when to stay still.
He was so consumed with the images in his head that he didn’t realize the woman herself had topped the stairs. He had no idea how long she stood there listening, but she spoke up now, her voice filled with the same kind of clear-sighted intelligence that he valued.
“I have no need for love,” she said firmly. “I need someone to help me kill my uncle.”
