A Most Dangerous Profession(67)

He grinned. “Neither of us are shy or retiring.”

“Oh, but she’s not merely articulate. She loves a good argument, too, and adores horses more than—” Moira’s voice broke, as tears gathered.

“Oh, Moira. Don’t.” Robert pulled her onto his lap and tucked her against him, resting his chin on her head, wrapping his arms about her as she wept softly into the shoulder of his robe, clutching the collar.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he whispered against her silken hair. Over and over he murmured reassurances, promising they’d get Rowena back, that all would be well. Silently, he added that he would make certain George Aniston paid and paid for the pain he’d put them through.

He let her weep, running a soothing hand over her shoulders and back. Eventually her tears began to dry, and she finally subsided into a quiet sniffle.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew a handkerchief to wipe her tears. “I’m sorry. I think I’m fine with everything, and then this happens.”

“I shouldn’t have asked about her. I have the most damnable curiosity.”

“As does she.” Moira’s smile twisted. “It’s all right, Robert. Really. It’s good for me to talk about her. I just didn’t have anyone to speak to before, and I’m not used to it.”

“You don’t trust many people, do you?”

“Not where Rowena is concerned.”

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. Her thick lashes were spiked by her tears. “If you decide that this is too much for you, just say the word and I’ll send you home. It may take me a day or two longer to get that box, but then I’ll join you and—”

“No! This is my fight, too.” Her jaw was set, her full mouth set.

She pushed herself away and tried to rise but Robert refused to let her go. “I rather like having you in my lap. I have very thin blood, you know. You keep me warm.”

Her lips quirked. “You do not have thin blood.”

“Fine, then. I’m a spoiled sophisticate who cannot hold a conversation with a beautiful woman unless I have my hands on her.”

She burst out laughing and relaxed against him. “You’re spoiled; that much is true.”

He grinned, glad to see the humor back in her eyes. “Now that we’re both comfortable, we should discuss this evening. I’m having qualms. Ross seems unstable. I worry that he might step over the line when I’m not there to protect you.”

She shrugged. “I have my pistol.”

“That’s not enough. I think we should cease attempting to woo Ross, and instead give Buffon time to work his magic. Someone in this castle has to know where that chamber is.”

“No, we must press every advantage we can. I know I can convince Ross to show me his collection if I just have a little more time.”

She looked so earnest that he could not refuse her. He rested his forehead against hers. “You’re set on this, are you?”

“Yes.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “You should return to your room and finish getting ready.” She placed her hands on his chest to sit upright, but he kept his arms about her.

It was so pleasant, snug by the fire in her room, her warm curves fitted against his lap. A moment of complete peace before they began their performance.

He’d never relished peace before, and if anyone had asked, he would have sworn that he would find it boring. But sitting here, with Moira wrapped in his arms, was anything but boring.

“Robert, my maid will return before long.”

“I know.” He sighed and released her.

She slipped her arms about his neck and gave him a quick, fierce hug.

He blinked in surprise but wrapped his arms back about her.

They stayed like that for a long moment, her face buried in his neck. But his body was awake now, and he had to fight the urge to press against her, to slip his hand beneath the blue silk and touch the warmth of her creamy skin, to—

Moira gave a heavy sigh, then rose from his lap. She caught sight of herself in one of the large gilt mirrors and chuckled. “I’ll have to fix my hair again.”

Robert stood, too, glad that his robe covered his response to her. He went to the window and opened it, the swirl of wind hitting him and cooling his senses.

“I don’t like you using the ledge.”

“Don’t worry. The old oak beside Wythburn Vicarage was more dangerous. It was conveniently located outside my window. When my father thought I was studying the Iliad, I was actually riding across the moors.”