Daring (16 page)

Connor glanced around, but he couldn’t see her face. It was hidden beneath a huge veil that dropped from her forehead like a curtain. “Will it do what?”

“I’m wearing it to conceal my identity. I don’t want anyone to notice me.”

He thought that she couldn’t have attracted more notice if a pelican had gotten caught in a fishing net and landed on her head. He couldn’t bring himself to comment on it though because he was in shock, just beginning to realize what he’d gotten himself into. A dog that looked like a white powdered wig with legs, a hostile old man, a woman petite enough to tuck into his pocket. Helpless, dependent on him, expecting him to play the hero. He
was
a traveling circus.

“Do you think I should bring a bathing dress?” Maggie asked thoughtfully.

Connor rolled his eyes. A bathing dress, she’d said. “We’re not going on a Mediterranean holiday, lass. We’ll be in seclusion.”

“I only wanted to be prepared in case you asked me to go for a little swim.”

“Miss Saunders, I am protecting you from criminals, not overseeing a playful splash in the local stream. Furthermore,
a
Highland autumn can be not only damn cold but downright dangerous.”

“Just like the Highlanders who survive them,” she said sadly. “I don’t know why you’re being so nasty about this. If we’re stuck together, we may as well be friends. Especially after last night.”

“Friends?” he exclaimed.
“Friends?
You tried to rob me. We didn’t exactly spend a lovely evening at the opera getting to know each other.”

Maggie brightened. “Do you like the opera too? I never would have guessed. Well, at least that’s one thing we have in common.”

Connor could only shake his head at what aggravation lay ahead.

“Well, I’m going to bring a parasol,” she said after a moment. “And don’t tell me the sun doesn’t shine in the Highlands. I refuse to be affected by your pessimism.”

He expelled a sigh of exasperation. “Bring a parasol. What does it matter?”

“The gray-striped silk or the ivory lace? Oh, never mind. I’ll bring them both. Will you carry down the trunk, or shall we have it sent to your house?” she asked politely as she began heaping hatboxes into his arms.

He grunted, struggling to see her over the rising mountain of millinery. “I’ll have it picked up in the morning before we leave. Is all this stuff really necessary?”

“I will not embarrass you with inappropriate clothing.”

He frowned. “There must be a fortune in hats here. How can a woman of your circumstances afford all this? Or am I carting around stolen goods?”

“Arthur has spoiled me horribly. He insists that all his boarders be well dressed.”

“Stolen goods.” Connor sighed. “I knew it. Now I’m a criminal.”

Maggie hid a grin. “What about the dog?”

Daphne’s tail started to wag.

“The dog,” he said.

Maggie stuffed her ballet shoes into a black velvet reticule. “Claude, too?”

Connor clenched his jaw as she tucked a parasol under his arm. He felt like a damned hatrack. Lord help him. “Claude too.”

T
here was a small crowd waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. The Chief; Janet; Auntie Mabel; Charlie Cameron, the famous jewel thief who had been released from prison last year; young Hugh, the housebreaker; and his uncle, Reckless Ronald MacTavish, the retired highwayman who’d lost an eye in the French and Indian Wars.

Maggie felt a lump rise in her throat at the sight of them, the only family she had. She remembered the times Charlie had brewed chamomile tea when she caught a cold, how Ronald would come out searching for her whenever she was
a few minutes late from work, how Janet had warmed her slippers at the fire. And the Chief, the secrets they had shared late at night when no one else was listening, the tears they’d shed over losing their beloved homes.

She felt Connor behind her on the stairs, big and powerful, regarding her friends in blatant disapproval. Out of the frying pan into the fire. Why should she trust him? He needed her now, and she needed him. But what would happen to her after his sister was found? What was she giving up to go off with this man?

The Chief
’
s voice broke the silence. “Ye’ll need an escort back to his house.”

“We will not,” Connor said in horror. “The Lord Advocate can hardly be seen accompanied by the worst criminals in the city.”

“They’re the best criminals in the city,” Maggie said with a catch in her voice.

“Aye.” The Chief walked slowly forward to confront Connor until they stood chest to chest, Maggie like a wild daisy lost in the shadow of two towering oak trees. “A warning, lad,” he said in a soft growl. “If any harm comes to that lass, I’ll be sewing buttons on yer shroud and not yer coat the next time.”

“No one is going to hurt her.”

“And another thing.” The Chief’s voice dropped an octave. “If word gets out that I was mendin’ clothes in my spectacles, I’ll ken who come after.”

Connor could barely restrain a grin. “I have a feeling that information will come in handy in the future when I need a favor or two.”

“Dinna push yer luck, Connor.”

Luck? Connor turned to regard the cause of all this consternation, admitting to himself that there could be worse things in the world than guarding a beautiful young woman in his Highland hideaway.

“Are you ready, lass?” he asked.

She nodded, then sniffed, flicking her veil back to dab at her nose with a handkerchief. “This is all so sudden and upsetting, my lord. I need a moment to say good-bye in private.”

Connor looked around the hallway in disbelief. Hardened criminals were clearing their throats, blinking back tears, stepping forward to embrace Maggie in rough hugs. He felt like a wolf stealing a baby lamb from its flock.

“For God’s sake,” he said. “It’s not as if she’s never going to return. I have to be back myself before the end of the month.”

For some reason this made Maggie sniff all the louder. The Chief looked at Connor with sad condemnation in his eyes.

“For five years I have loved Maggie like my own daughter, but I cannot break the rules, not even for kin. Once you leave the clan of Heaven’s Court, there’s no coming back. When ye take Maggie away tonight, she becomes an outsider to us. Now give us a minute alone so we can make our farewells in private. Get the hell out of here, Connor.”

C
onnor waited on the unlit doorstep, feeling like the cat that had been put out for the night. He wondered idly if there was some sort of ritual to be performed when you broke from the clan. Oaths made in blood, secrets sworn on a human skull never to be revealed.

Annoyed, he set down Maggie’s silly parasol and walked around the side of the house, half hoping to peek into the parlor. He was anxious to return home to find out if there’d been any news of Sheena.

The sound of leaves rustling and a soft curse
c
aught his ear. He sidestepped a weed-infested vegetable plot and walked quietly to the back of the house.

A man clad in dark clothing was in the process of climbing up an ivy trellis toward a second-story window.

An unpleasant tug of realization tightened the nerves of Connor’s scalp. The man was scaling the ivy toward Maggie’s bedroom window like a lover sneaking an hour with the woman forbidden him. Or was he not a friend at all, but a stranger with something more sinister in mind?

Was this one of the men who’d kidnapped Sheena?

Connor eased out of his coat and crept up to the trellis, experimentally testing its weight with his foot. As he suspected, it wouldn’t hold him. Damn, the warped wood felt too fragile to bear even the intruder. He gave it a powerful shake.

Another curse broke the silence. A shower of dry leaves hit Connor on the head. Then suddenly the man on the trellis was treading air, arms flailing, and falling backward like a rotten apple shaken from a branch.

He landed at Connor’s feet, swearing violently, entangled in the remnants of the shattered trellis. Connor stared down at him in thoughtful silen
ce. The man was young and good-
looking, clutching a bouquet of beheaded flowers to his chest. He didn’t look like much of a threat, either.

“Hell.” He sat up, looking dazed and disgusted. “Bloody hell. Damn stinking trellis.”

“You should have used a ladder,” Connor said.

The man jumped to his feet, startled to see another figure in the shadows. “Who the devil are you?” he demanded in indignation.

Connor stepped forward, towering over him by half a foot. “That’s a question I should be asking you.”

The man looked Connor up and down before apparently deciding cooperation was in
his best interests. “Liam Mac
Dougall,” he said reluctantly, cradling his bruised elbow. “Who the bloody blazes are you? You’re not one of the clan.”

Connor debated whether he should use restraint to talk the matter through, or simply obey a very tempting impulse to knock the little idiot senseless. “Why were you trying to break into Miss Saunders’s window?”

“Why should I tell you?”

Connor gave him a malevolent smile. “Because I’m going to hurt you very badly if you don’t.”

“I wasn’t trying to break in,” Liam said in a dejected voice. “I was going to break Maggie out. The Chief refuses to let me court her, and there’s a rumor that she’s being taken off by another man, that she’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble and has to leave the country.”

Connor glanced up at the darkened window. “What kind of trouble?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” He brushed himself off, releasing a sigh of self-importance. “All I can reveal is that it has something to do with a ring of French spies.”

“And you took it upon yourself to save her from this international intrigue?”

“Aye.” Liam nodded uncertainly. “That’s right.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Let me see if I understand. You were risking your neck to save Miss Saunders from enemy agents using”—he gestured to Liam’s left hand—“a bunch of headless flowers as a weapon?”

“Not exactly,” Liam said with an offended look. “The flowers were for the wedding. I hoped we could elope. I’ve just taken a commission in the Horse Guard, and thought Maggie could live with my family in Glasgow. Mother is going to fuss at first of course, but that will change after the baby comes.”

“The baby?” Connor said in a startled voice.

Liam looked embarrassed. “That’s what usually comes after a honeymoon, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes before.”

“Yes, well, I thought if I left Maggie with a baby to look after, it would take her mind off more unpleasant things.”

“Such as a ring of French spies?”

“That, and how much she was missing me.”

Connor shook his head. “Romeo couldn’t have done any better. Damn bad luck about the trellis giving way—”

Liam cursed.

“And the unfortunate fact that you’re too late to save her.”

“You mean she’s gone?” Liam said in panic.

“Going even as we speak.”

“Oh, my God.” Liam leaned back against the shredded trellis, bereft and pale. “Now what am I going to do?”

“I suppose you’ll have to find another damsel in distress.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” Liam sounded terrified. “I won’t be able to get out of here unless Maggie shows me the way. I’m a dead man. These flowers will adorn my grave.”

Connor lifted his brow. “How did you manage to get in, lad?”

“Janet. The little witch. She charged me twenty pounds, too.”

Connor tried to look sympathetic. “We can’t put a price on love, can we? Anyway, take my advice, Liam, and try to sneak out of here however you can. If the Chief catches you, it won’t be a pretty picture.”

“You’re telling me. Damn it, I’d like to get my hands on
the bastard who’s taking her away. Here.” He shoved what was left of the bouquet at Connor. “Perhaps you can use these. They’re no bloody good to me where
I’
m going.”

He stomped off toward the back gate, swearing and pausing once to glance up wistfully at Maggie’s window. Connor watched him with amusement and something else that felt annoyingly like jealousy. Which of course it wasn’t. Hell, the last thing he needed was to play intermediary between two star-crossed lovers with all the trouble he already had on his hands.

“I shouldn’t have interfered,” he said aloud, staring down at the broken trellis.

“Is that you, my lord?” a soft voice whispered behind him. Connor turned to stare at Maggie as she walked cautiously through the garden. “Who are you talking to?” she asked, lifting her veil.

He caught her arm before she could trip over the trellis. He had every intention of telling her the truth. God forbid that his position as her protector took on any further significance. “It was—”

“Oh—oh!” She brought her hands to her face, noticing the remnants of the splintered wood at her feet. “You caught an intruder, didn’t you?”