A Most Dangerous Profession(78)

“You, monsieur,” she told her reflection, “have much to accomplish today.” But before she could face Aniston, she had to procure a horse from the landlord. She tugged on a pair of gloves to hide her feminine hands. It was time for the game to begin.

Moira turned from the mirror, the overcoat swinging out as she moved, the pockets both weighted. Inside one pocket rested the long velvet bag holding the onyx box and a small but very full coin purse, while in the other was her pistol.

She paused to replace the false bottom in her trunk and locked it tight before pushing it under the bed. Then, straightening her shoulders, she opened the door and stepped into the empty hallway. She was glad Robert had chosen an inn on the outskirts of Edinburgh; there were far fewer people to contend with.

Better yet, French émigrés weren’t frequent visitors at such inns, so anyone she met would likely have only a vague, theater-induced concept of a Frenchman, which was perfect for her cause. The secret of a good disguise was to be exactly what people expected. That way, no one gave you a second glance.

As she went down the hall, her gaze lingered on the door to Robert’s bedchamber. When she’d slipped out of the room earlier he’d been asleep, his hair falling over his brow, his stern mouth softened.

Last night had been their final hours together. She’d spent it the way she’d hoped—passionately. With each kiss, each caress, each sigh, and—after he’d fallen asleep in her arms—with each tear, she’d been telling him good-bye.

The memory tightened her throat as she walked down the stairs. A faint light gleamed from the back hall, indicating that the innkeeper and servants were beginning to stir.

Moira peeked out the front window and, seeing no servants in the inn yard, she opened the front door and then slammed it shut, turning around so that it appeared that she’d just entered.

She instantly heard footsteps from the back hall, followed by the glow of an approaching lantern. Moira quickly arranged her face into a haughty expression.

The innkeeper looked surprised to find a well-dressed gentleman in his foyer so early in the morning, but his shrewd gaze noted the lace cuffs and the emerald pin in her cravat. “Och, sir!” He offered an eager bow. “Sorry no one was here t’ greet ye, but I wasna expectin’ anyone as ’tis early yet.”

“Oui. I need a horse, and I need it now.”

The innkeeper rubbed his nose. “I can assist ye in that. O’ course, it’ll cost ye a bit, fer I’ve no’ so many nags as to easily afford to lose one.”

Moira pulled a few large coins from the stuffed purse in her pocket. “Just tell me the amount.”

The innkeeper’s eyes gleamed. “Tha’ should do it.”

Moira dropped the coins into his outstretched hand.

“I’ll have a mount saddled right away. She’s older, but she’ll get ye where ye need t’ go.” The innkeeper went to the door and opened it, then looked back at her. “Pardon me, sir, but how did ye get to be here if ye’ve no mount?”

“I was riding to Edinburgh to visit the Earl of Stratham when a damned thief attacked me.” Moira allowed a sneer to touch her mouth. “That was his last mistake.”

“ ’Tis a shame how the brigands run amuck. The crown should do somethin’ aboot them.”

“This one won’t trouble anyone again.” Her hand rested upon the hilt of her sword and she permitted herself a faint, superior smile. “In the commotion, my horse ran off. A farmer gave me a ride to your inn. And now I must get to Edinburgh.”

“I’ll have a horse saddled fer ye right away.”

“I shall wait by the fire in the common room.” She sauntered into the room as if it were her God-given right, and a second later she heard the door close behind the innkeeper.

So far, so good.

The big room was lit by a single lantern, a low fire crackling in the grate and doing little to banish the early morning chill. She stood before the fire, leaning against the mantel and watching the flames crackle. Soon she’d have Rowena back. Yet she was leaving the man she loved forever.

It didn’t seem fair that the two people she most cared about would never share her life at the same time, but it was better for them all not to have to deal with the complications that could cause. But then life had never been fair, and it was silly to wish otherwise.

The front door opened and closed and the sound of booted footsteps came down the hall. Good—the horse was ready.