A Most Dangerous Profession(20)

She didn’t answer, and he smiled. “I know for a fact that you did retire, because there has been no mention of you for over five years in any investigation run by the Home Office.”

“I could have been overseas,” she said waspishly, hating that he had deduced so much from so little.

“I had people watching even there. You disappeared and then about six months ago, there you were, back in business and in a big way. There has to be a reason.”

“Perhaps I was bored.”

He shook his head. “No, Aniston has something he is holding over you, forcing you to fetch and scheme for him. Something significant.”

She puffed a frustrated sigh. “I’m done with this conversation. If you’ll excuse me, I must get out of this cold water.” She grasped the sides of the tub and stood, water running down her skin, her nipples peaking in the cold air.

Robert had thought he was completely under control, but the sight of her naked body glistening, as if she were Venus arising from the ocean, made his heart stop. Every drop caught his attention as they slowly ran down the top of her full breasts, slid down the flat plane of her stomach, then caressed the smooth curve of her hips and thighs.

Robert’s body tightened, his cock hardening.

She wrung her wet hair over the tub, then flipped it over one shoulder before she picked up a towel and dried herself.

“I don’t know that brunette hair is your best look. It makes you appear a bit witchy.”

She slipped on a silk robe. “It will fade within two weeks.” She rubbed the towel on her hair and showed him the faint dark smear left upon the cloth. “See?”

The long robe belted about her narrow waist, her hair wrapped in a towel, she sauntered across the room to take the settee next to him.

She had no shame. Nothing but the thin silk of the robe separated her from him, a maddening thought.

As if she knew, she tucked her legs beside her into the settee, the movement tugging the robe open so that the deep cleavage between her breasts was revealed. The thin robe clung to her damp skin and her nipples were clearly outlined.

No other woman he knew was so comfortable being nearly nude before a male. Not the opera singer he’d sponsored for a year, not the ballet dancer, nor the actress. Or the many others he’d bedded.

Only Moira.

“Enough of this,” he snapped. “I can see you’re not going to be honest about your connection to Aniston. There is another reason I came here. There’s no need to visit Ross tomorrow, as you were instructed. That onyx box will be mine.”

Her lashes flickered, then she shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Ma chère, I’m doing you a favor—there’s no need for you to waste your time. If I see you in the highlands, I will personally tie you up, put you in my coach, and have you delivered to the Home Office to face the charges of treason which still await.”

She leaned back, sleek and elegant. “Am I to suppose that you’ve already found a way to acquire the box?”

“Ross and I have already agreed upon a price. I have but to deliver the funds and it is mine.”

Robert saw the fleeting disappointment in her eyes. Good. That’s all I need. He stood. “I believe I’ve been quite clear. You’ll inform Aniston that the onyx box is not available to him.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Tell him now or tell him later, after you have failed to fetch the box. It doesn’t matter.”

Very real fear crossed her face, surprising him. What in the hell is she hiding? Moira was no coward, so if she feared Aniston, then she had good reason.

Robert grasped her wrist and hauled her to her feet, the scent of lavender tickling his nose, her body pressed to his. His temperature rose, his breath quickening as his body reacted to her. This is not why I pulled her into my arms.

He held her away from him and gave her a little shake. “Damn it, stop being so stubborn. Tell me what hold that fool has over you.”

Her gaze went to his and held it. “Why do you care?”

He didn’t know why. He only knew that when he saw the fear in her eyes, he was overcome with the need to act, to take charge, to protect her.

Which was entirely foolish.

A look of amazement arose in her gaze. Then, before he knew what she was about, she slipped an arm about his neck, lifted onto her toes, and kissed him.

The kiss was bold, like Moira herself. She made full use of her curves, pressing against him as she pulled one of his hands to her hip.