Seducing the Ruthless Rogue (3 page)

“I have a bloody war to fight!”

“Someone else can fight the war for you,” Dr. McGregor calmly replied.

“You don’t understand…”

“No,
you
don’t understand.
 
If you do not take some days to heal, then you are not going to get better.
 
You are lucky that rib stopped the bullet.
 
If it hadn’t you could very well be visiting with St. Peter.
 
As it is, you have a broken rib and a damaged lung.
 
I don’t know how else to say it, but your body needs rest.”

“A week is all I can give you.”

“Damn stubborn Scot.”

That conversation had happened roughly a month ago.
 
In that time, they had buried a prime minister, appointed another to take his place, and the upstart colonists thought to wage war against their mother country…again.
 
And who could forget the assassination attempt on Prinny last year?
 
Had it only been a year ago
? he mused introspectively.
 
Time rushed past at an alarming rate of speed, and he could do nothing to slow it down.
 
Forty loomed ever closer, causing him to catch his breath at times.

Mack sat in the comfortable leather chair in his study and lifted his booted legs onto the stool.
 
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
 
He welcomed the silence as it soothed his soul.
 
He was glad that when he moved to London all those years ago he had invested in this house rather than taking rooms at the Albany.
 
He missed the Highlands of Scotland, but doubted he could ever go back there.
 
Laird McKenzie would not welcome him, his mother was long dead, and he wasn’t certain how welcome he would be by his half-siblings.

“Sir, I didn’t hear you come in.
 
Would you like something to eat?” John Bartlett, his man servant, asked.
 
John did everything for Mack except clean the house.
 
For that, a woman came in once a week.

“I slipped in a few minutes ago, John.
 
It seems I will be underfoot for a while.”

“And why’s that?”

“I have been temporarily relieved of my position.”

“But you are the Director of the War Office.”

“Not anymore.
 
It seems people are concerned about my health.
 
I say I’m too ornery to die.”

“Too true, sir.
 
Well, what do you plan to do?”

“Prove to everyone I am as healthy as an ox and get back to work as soon as possible.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“The hell if I know, John,” Mack sighed, holding his aching, bandage-wrapped side.

Chapter 2

Cassie checked her reflection in the mirror and then settled a sedate looking hat on her golden locks.
 
She gathered her pelisse before walking out of her bedroom.

“Chang, I will be at the War Office, and then I have several other things I must see to.”

“Missy Cassie, should you go again?”

“If I do nothing else but irritate the man, then I have done my job for the week,” she said before dropping a kiss on the old man’s cheek.
 

“Be careful.”

“Always, Chang.”
 
Cassie left the house and walked to the corner to hail a hack.
 
In her mind, she played out the scene.
 
She would enter Director McKenzie’s outer office and demand to see him.
 
Mr. Preston would announce her presence, and the director would turn her away without ever seeing her.
 
It was a game the two played, but at least it was familiar.
 
Deep down it was her way of knowing that Papa was all right.
 
It was the day that he actually called her into his office that she dreaded.
 
The conveyance lurched to a halt outside the Horseguards.
 
“Wait for me.”

“Aye,” the driver replied with a tip of his hat.

Cassie turned and entered the building just like any other Monday.
 
When she entered the office she sought, she smiled at Mr. Preston, who sat behind his desk.
 
“Good morning, Mr. Preston.”

“Ah, good morning, Miss Graham.”

“I would like to see Director McKenzie.”

“That is going to be a bit difficult today, but please wait here.”

Cassie took her usual seat and watched the secretary disappear through the open door.
 
Odd, Director McKenzie usually had the door closed.
 
She heard whispering, not the usual loud Scottish snarl that heralded the fact that she would be turned away once more.
 
When Mr. Preston returned to the outer office, a smile on his face, Cassie knew something was definitely different.

“Mr. Preston, you’re frightening me.
 
You actually look
happy
.”

“Yes, well, the director will see you now.”

“What did you just say?
 
I believe I must have heard wrong,” Cassie said, a slight tremble entering her voice.
 
If Director McKenzie was willing to see her that could only mean that something had truly happened to her father.

“No, Miss Graham, you did not hear wrong.”

Cassie looked up to see a very distinguished looking silver-haired gentleman standing in the doorway.
 
“You’re not…”

“McKenzie?
 
No, and thank goodness for that.
 
The world can only take so many McKenzie’s.
 
I am Lord Presley, and I am filling in for Director McKenzie while he takes a sabbatical.
 
Now, Miss Graham, would you like to step into my office, and I will see what I can do to assist you?”
 
She passed by the older man and took a proffered seat.
 
“Now what can I do for you, Miss Graham?” he asked as he took his seat behind the desk.

“I would like to know where my father is.”

“And why would the director of the War Office be privy to this information?”

“Because I believe it is the former director of the War Office that is responsible for his disappearance.”

“I see.”

“Director Presley, Director McKenzie…”

“
Former
Director McKenzie,” the older man interjected.
 

“Yes.
 
Well, as I was saying, we have continued this cat-and-mouse game for the last year.
 
I show up every Monday and demand information on my father, and he denies me.
 
It is his way, I believe, of letting me know that all is well with my father.
 
The day that he calls me into his office is the day that I fear.
 
So, you can imagine how frightened I was when Mr. Preston came out and told me the director would see me.
 
If it is all the same to you, I will be perfectly content if we go back to the old system of doing this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, Director,” she waved her hand.
 
“I show up to ask where my father is, and you refuse to see me as did your predecessor.”

“Wait here, Miss Graham.”

Cassie waited seconds after the door was closed before she bound out of her chair and moved behind the desk.
 
She quickly opened drawers, careful not to dislodge any documents as she searched.
 
When she came up empty, she quickly scanned the files located in the cabinet in the corner.
 
She found one labeled
Graham
but when she opened it, nothing was there.
 
Spying a stack of papers on the desk, Cassie quickly flipped through them.
 
One had the name
Mack
and an address written beneath.
 
The house was located just a few blocks from the one she shared with her father and Chang, now just with Chang.
 
She tidied the stack back up and moved to the window just in time to hear the doorknob jiggle.

“You have a beautiful view, Director Presley,” Cassie said, turning to address the interim director.

“Thank you.
 
Miss Graham, I must apologize.
 
It seems that your father’s case was one that former Director McKenzie did not brief me on.
 
I will do my best to locate the information you require.”

“I appreciate that, Director Presley.”
 
Cassie slipped by the older man once more.
 
“I wish you the best in your new position.”

“Oh, it’s just temporary, my dear,” he laughed, attempting to wave off the serious tone he had used earlier when correcting her.
 
“I am much too old to deal with all this intrigue on a regular basis.”

“Never say that, sir,” Cassie amicably chuckled.
 
“And good day to you, Mr. Preston.”

The two men watched the young woman leave.
 
“Did we give her enough time?” Mr. Preston asked worriedly.

“I believe so,” Director Presley replied.
 
“Perhaps she will keep Mack busy for the time being, and keep him away from here.
 
Now, I have some letters that need to be sent off.”

“Right away, sir.”

Cassie made her way to the hack, feeling jubilant with the information she had absconded with from Director Presley’s office.
 
If it had been that easy for her to sneak away with information, perhaps he was not the best choice of interim director for an office that contained such delicate information as the War Office.
 
Upon reaching the carriage she gave the driver directions to a public building where a political gathering was being held.
 
When she climbed in, she leaned against the squabs feeling ecstatic and changing her plans for the rest of the day.

***

Not for the first time since being forced to leave his position, Mack shuffled through the stacks of papers he had managed to pilfer from the office without Presley’s knowledge.
 
He spread several maps out about the room and moved from one to the other, making notes.
 
A loud pounding sounded on the door.

“John, someone’s at the door.
 
Send them away.”
 
More pounding.
 
“John!”
 
The pounding continued.
 
“Bloody hell, John, where are you?”
 
Silence except for the pounding.
 
“I’m coming, just bloody hell stop!”
 
Mack jerked open the door to see a rock coming at his face.

“Oh, so sorry about that,” the statuesque woman on the other side of the door said, dropping the rock and then sweeping past him.

“Wait just a minute.
 
Come back here!
 
I did not give you leave to enter my house,” Mack roared, as he watched the blonde enter his domain.
 
He slammed the door shut before stomping through the house.
 
He found her shuffling through the papers on his desk.
 
“What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
 
His brogue getting thicker with every passing moment.
 
He stormed over to his desk, gathered up all of the papers, and dumped them into a drawer that he quickly locked.
 
“Now who are you and what do you want?”

“I’m hurt, Director McKenzie, that you do not remember me.”

“Perhaps if I could see your face, but that…” he gestured with his hand in front of his face, “whatever you call that scrap of fabric is keeping me from seeing much of anything.”

“Oh, yes, let me just flip it back so that you can better see who you are dealing with.”
 
The woman lifted the scrap of tightly woven lace and tucked it backwards over the hat.
 
“There, how is that, Director?
 
Still having difficulty?
 
Our meeting was brief.
 
A dinner party, almost a year ago at Lady Greenwood’s house.
 
It seemed as if you, my
father
, and myself were the only ones in attendance that were not related to one another in some form or fashion.”

“Miss Graham,” he guessed.

“Ah, so you do have a good memory after all.”

“How did you get my address?”

“A bit of ingenuity on my part and lack of discretion on the part of the new director.”

“Not new,” he growled.
 
“He is temporary.”

“Oh, yes, that is what he said,” she said airily.
 
“Where is my father?”

“It’s Monday, isn’t it?” he asked with a groan.

“Yes, it is.
 
Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you, sir, are a liar.”

“That is all you are getting out of me, Miss Graham.
 
Now, as it is not seemly for a single woman to be seen alone in a single man’s house, I suggest that you leave before we are both forced into something neither of us want.”