A Most Dangerous Profession(77)
He no longer wondered if he wished them in his life—the events of the last three weeks had erased those doubts. Others now tumbled through his mind. Would Moira want to be a part of his life? Would Rowena accept him? He had no idea how to be a good father or husband. What if he couldn’t do it well enough? Would they all be miserable?
There was only one area he was sure about, and he held Moira close every night while she slept. And most mornings he awakened her with a kiss that didn’t stop there.
As they drew closer to Edinburgh, Moira fought her own fears. She no longer worried that Robert might whisk Rowena away. He would never take a child from her mother; she knew that now. But would he wish to be part of Rowena’s life after they had her safe? Did she want him to be part of Rowena’s life?
Including Robert in their life would change everything. For months, Moira had longed for things to return to the way they had been; now she didn’t know what she wanted. Robert was a complex man; she couldn’t ask him to stay within the safe little world she’d built. Even if he agreed to, out of a sense of responsibility or because he’d come to care for Rowena, he would eventually tire of the smallness of the community—the very thing that Moira had come to love. It simply couldn’t be.
Parting from him would be difficult, for she had seen another side of the most fascinating man she’d ever met. And despite their desperate dance to keep their attraction contained, she’d fallen deeply in love all over again.
She stole a glance at him as he looked at the cards in his hand, deciding which to play. Today was the final day of their journey; they were only six hours from Edinburgh.
Robert caught her gaze and placed his cards on the seat. “Moira, we must talk.”
Her heart gave a lurch as she set her cards down as well. “Of course.”
“We will see Aniston tomorrow.” Then he said firmly, “Rather, I will see him.”
She frowned. “No. I must be there.”
“It’s not safe for you. We don’t know what he’s capable of. We underestimated Ross, and you almost paid the price for it. That will not happen again.”
“Robert, this is my battle. I will tell him he cannot have the onyx box until he gives up Rowena. I’ve never had any leverage before and it will make all the difference.”
“He won’t agree to it.”
She set her jaw. “He has to, or the box will be gone.”
“And what if he calls your bluff? He knows you will never trade against Rowena’s freedom. Meanwhile, he has every reason to think I don’t care about her.”
“He’ll know that’s not true when you appear instead of me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t bother.” She picked up her cards. “I am going to see Aniston, not you, and that’s that.”
He looked thoughtful. “You’re right. Fine. Then we’ll go together, as partners.”
At one time, she would have agreed to that wholeheartedly. But the more she allowed Robert into her life now, the harder it would be to keep him out later. Besides, he didn’t know Aniston as she did. It would be easier—and safer—to do this on her own.
But Robert wouldn’t take “no” easily, so she merely said, “All right.” She nodded toward his cards. “It’s your turn.”
He smiled and selected a card from his hand. “Tomorrow we deal with Aniston and Rowena will be freed.”
She smiled in return though she couldn’t disagree more. This was her fight, and no one else’s.
In the dim predawn light, Moira tugged her overcoat about her shoulders, adjusted the lace at her cuffs, and then regarded herself in the mirror. Looking back at her was a slender man of average height, dressed in the French manner. Lace spilled from her wrists and adorned her cravat behind a thick-cut emerald that was as large as it was fake.
She tugged the dark wig more firmly into place and placed a curly-brimmed hat upon her head, wincing as a hairpin dug into her scalp. “Thank God I’ll only have to wear this for a short while,” she told herself, deepening her voice and adding a French accent.
She posed before the mirror, one hand lightly resting on an ornate sword that wouldn’t have been amiss on a stage. From the way she stood to the haughty expression on her lightly powdered face, she was no longer Moira MacAllister, but a highborn French émigré with more money than manners. The disguise served several purposes. For one, it would allow her to escape the notice of anyone at the inn, including Stewart and Leeds. For another, she could travel to Aniston’s abode without interference. And lastly, she might be able to surprise Aniston and give herself more of an edge in their coming meeting.