A Most Dangerous Profession(42)

His body ached with a new flush of desire, and he glanced at the beckoning bed. Don’t think of that now, he told himself sternly, but his cock was already hard and ready.

She spread the gown over a chair by the bed and pulled more items from the saddlebags—a silver comb, a packet of hairpins, and some stockings. “I have a plan to get the real box, not the fake one Ross is likely to try to foist on us.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, but it will be much easier with help. Before I left Edinburgh, I asked about Ross from several people who knew him well and I found out some very interesting things.”

“Such as?”

“For one, he enjoys pursuing married women.”

Robert’s gaze locked on her. “I didn’t know that.”

“He’s been in two duels, both over married women. I think he collects them like he collects objects d’art.”

“Interesting.”

“It’s his weakness. If we go to see him together and I present myself as your devoted wife, it will offer him a challenge—one I will make certain he can’t resist.”

“You will distract him while I search for the real onyx box.”

“You’re better able to recognize it. That was the one weakness of my plan: I wasn’t certain I’d be able to tell the real onyx box from a well-executed fake.”

He had to admit that it was a damn good plan. “Why do you believe that Ross keeps the original box in his castle?”

“For two reasons. First of all, because his weakness is coveting what other people want. He’s the sort to savor his triumphs, tiny though they may be, so he’d want it nearby to look at.”

That made sense. “And the other reason?”

“He has bragged about his private collection to friends and acquaintances. He’s even told people that he has his collection hidden in the castle, somewhere very secret. I think he has a vault somewhere, or a hidden room.”

Robert was impressed. She had done an excellent job gathering important information. It’s a pity she doesn’t work for the Home Office. They could use someone with her skills. “You’ve convinced me. We’ll fetch the box, leave Ross behind, and return to Edinburgh.”

She beamed at him. “Working together, there’s no possible way we can fail.” She began to unbraid her hair. “Once we have the box, we can secure Rowena’s freedom.”

“I’ll be damned if I calmly hand anything over to Aniston.”

“Do not underestimate him,” she returned sharply. “He is cruel. Cold. Calculating. He likes to inflict pain. Rowena’s—” Her voice broke, but after a deep breath she continued, her eyes sparkling with tears. “I can’t risk her safety.”

“You really believe he’ll injure her?”

“The only reason he hasn’t harmed her yet is that he knows that without her, he has no control over me.”

The thought chilled Robert’s heart. There were certain people who could kill without remorse. Some killed for sport, or for even less reason—it took little or nothing to lead them to it.

And such a man had his daughter—a daughter he’d never had the chance to meet or know. A knot formed in his throat: anger for what was, sadness for what had never been.

He realized Moira was watching him. “I will do nothing to harm our daughter,” he said shortly.

She met his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “I know.” She sat on the edge of the bed and began to thread her fingers through her hair, untangling the thick strands.

Robert was mesmerized by the sight of her delicate white fingers sliding through her long tresses. Once she had unbraided it, she picked up the silver comb and began to run it through her hair. She caught his gaze and smiled. “You used to tease me about having silver combs. Do you remember?”

He remembered that and much more. He remembered her long legs, wrapped tightly about his hips. He remembered the lavender scent of her skin as he trailed his lips over her. He especially remembered how easy she was to arouse, and how he’d taken such pleasure in making her gasp for breath.

But all he said was, “You and I enjoy the finer things in life.”

Her gaze flickered over him, approval in her gaze. “We do have that in common.”

“I remember other things we had in common. More . . . interesting things.”

Her thick lashes lowered over her eyes. “Perhaps.”