Seducing the Ruthless Rogue (40 page)

“Yes, sir.”

Mack folded the note and slid it into a hidden pocket in his superfine before going through the rest of the letters on his desk.

“You requested to see me, sir?”

“Hanks, I want you to get our best men, and I want constant surveillance on Sir Graham and his man servant.
 
I also want someone watching my house as well as the Duke of Hawkescliffe’s house.”

“Yes, sir.
 
Do we know who we are looking for?”

“No.
 
Everyone should be treated as a threat.”

“And if we find out who the person is?”

“Attempt to bring them in without harming them, but if they do not cooperate, use whatever force necessary.”

“Yes, sir.”
 
The man bowed and left the room.
 

Mack felt confident that Hanks would see to everything.
 
He worked his way through the rest of the letters while waiting on Preston.
 
All the rest were benign and related to the War Office and the business at hand.
 
Mack spent the rest of the day replying to correspondence and attending meetings.

Chapter 22

Usually Chang cooked the meals at home, but for some reason Cassie had felt a need to try her hand at cooking a meal for Mack.
 
Bartlett had been kind enough to go to the market for her and get everything she needed.
 
Then three hours later, when the contents of the oven had shot flames at her upon opening the door, and she had thrown up her hands in defeat, Bartlett had made a return trip.
 
This time he returned with Mack’s favorite meat pies.
 

Bartlett had gently maneuvered her out of the kitchen and taken over the clean up of the mess that was to have been their supper.
 
Cassie ended up in the study writing on her story.
 
After the last few days, she had found herself inspired and had led her characters on a merry chase through the blank pages she had filled with words.
 
That was where Mack found her when he arrived home.

She was so intent on her story, she did not hear him arrive.
 
The lamp burned brightly on the desk, lighting her work space.
 
She blindly reached the nib of her pen to the ink well, but jumped when she felt lips brushing her neck.
 
Cassie gave a squeak and quickly dropped the pen to right the small bottle before ink spilled everywhere.

“Mack, you gave me a start.”

“Did you not hear me?
 
I was speaking to you ever since I walked into the room.”

“I’m sorry, I was writing.”

“I thought I told you no more articles.”

“I’m not going to fight about this with you now.”

“There is nothing to fight about.
 
You will no longer write the articles for
The Times
.”

“Yes, I will.”

He jerked the stack of papers off the desk and acted as if he were about to rip them in two.

“Stuart James McKenzie, if you rip those up, I swear you will rue the day you ever met me, and I will never share your bed again.
 
Those are
not
articles.”

“What are they?”

“A story, if you must know.
 
I am writing a novel, or attempting to.
 
That is part of my work.
 
Now, may I have it back?”

Mack held the paper out of her reach and perused a few pages.
 
“This Bartleby, who is he?”

“The hero,” she muttered.

“And he has ‘penetrating grey eyes and dark hair that looked like a raven’s wing in the sun’.”

“Yes.”

“That sounds very familiar.
 
In fact, I think I saw something like that in the mirror this morning while getting dressed for work.”

“Damn you, Mack.
 
Give me back my bloody papers!”
 
Cassie stomped on his foot, and Mack dropped the papers.
 
“You didn’t have to drop them,” she accused as she fell to the floor and began gathering them up.

“Bloody hell, did you have to stomp on my foot?”

Cassie peeked around the corner of the desk as she watched Mack limp to a chair.
 
She blindly placed the papers on the desk and crawled quickly to his side.
 
She raised up so that she knelt next to him and tentatively laid a hand on his knee.
 
“Mack, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he bit out.

“No lies, no secrets, remember?
 
This marriage might not have much, but it will at least have those rules.
 
Now, I am sorry I did not tell you about my novel.
 
It just didn’t come to mind the last few days.
 
There now, what’s wrong?”

“You stomped the same foot that a wagon rolled over this morning.”

“A wagon rolled over?
 
What were you doing that close to a wagon?”

“Attempting to avoid being run down by a carriage.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone tried to kill me on the way to work this morning.”

All the air seemed to leave Cassie, and she looked defeated.
 
Her buttocks rested on her heels.
 
“Perhaps you should start over.”

“There is nowhere to start.
 
I walked to work this morning.
 
As I crossed the street, a coach came barreling down on me.
 
My only option was to throw myself beneath a passing wagon.
 
Somehow I managed to have only a foot run over by the wheel.
 
The same foot that you just stomped on.”

“I’m so sorry.
 
If I had known…
 
Do we need to call for a physician?”

“No.
 
I think it’s just bruised.
 
The wagon was empty.”

“Was it an assassination attempt?
 
You have such a dangerous job.”

“I don’t think it was.
 
Not in that way.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I received this at work today.”
 
He reached inside his coat and pulled out the letter, handing it to her.
 
He had not been going to tell her about it, but her “no secrets, no lies rule” put paid to that.
 
“Actually it came yesterday.”
 

Cassie took the letter and opened it.
 
She read it several times, carefully committing every word to memory before handing it back to Mack.
 
“Whoever this person is, isn’t after me, are they?
 
They just want me to suffer.”

“That’s what Gabe and I believe.
 
I have men watching your father’s house, our house, and Gabe’s house.”

“Oh, no.
 
Mikala and the baby…”

“Are well protected.
 
Gabe will see nothing happens to them.
 
He has his own defense system besides the one that I sent over.”

“Good.
 
I couldn’t live with myself if anything were to happen to Mikala or the baby, not after everything she has done for me.
 
Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I just have some bruises here and there.
 
More sore than anything.”

Cassie nodded.
 
“Sit here and relax, I’ll be back in a moment.”

He grabbed her hand before she could disappear.
 
“Where are you going?”

“I’m not leaving the house.
 
I’ll be back in a moment,” she started to leave, but turned back toward him on impulse.
 
She leaned over and engaged him in a kiss that left them both just a bit winded.
 
“I missed you just a bit today.”

“Just a bit?”

“Well, I don’t want you to get any ideas that I want you underfoot all the time,” she saucily winked at him before leaving him and disappearing from the room.

Mack relaxed back against the chair and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in his foot.
 

“Bartlett, drag that table over.”
 

He heard Cassie’s order and his eyes opened.
 
“What are you doing?”
 

“Trying to save you a few steps.”

“Cassie, my foot hurts a little.
 
I’m not crippled and incapable of walking,” he said, exasperated.

“I know that,” she returned, slamming the tray down on the table harder than she should have.
 
“Forgive me for trying to do something nice for you.”
 
She spun to leave the room when she heard and uneven thud-thud cross the room.
 
A firm hand grabbed hers, holding her in place.
 
She turned to look into the smoky grey eyes she had been writing about all afternoon.

“John, leave us,” Mack ordered.

“Gonna need a bigger house,” the man muttered as he closed the study door behind him.

“Thank you, Cassie.”

“You’re welcome.
 
I shouldn’t have slammed the tray down.
 
This whole thing has me a bit rattled.”

“I know it does.
 
Let’s sit down and eat.”
 
They each took a chair at the round table that John had pulled to the center of the room.
 
Cassie had filled them each a plate and brought him a mug of ale and her a pot of tea.
 

“Meat pies?” Mack asked.

“Don’t ask about our original meal,” she said.
 

“Now my curiosity is piqued.”

“I attempted to cook today,” Cassie admitted.

“And?”

“It caught fire.
 
John left and came back with these.”

Mack threw back his head and laughed.
 
He could just imagine whatever she had attempted to cook, catching on fire, flames escaping when she opened the oven door.

“Mack, it really wasn’t that funny,” Cassie remonstrated.
 
When he continued to laugh, she threw down her napkin and stood, causing the chair she sat in to scrape backwards on the floor.
 
“Dammit, stop laughing, right now.
 
I was trying to make you supper.”

He tried to stop laughing, but couldn’t stop the little chuckles that escaped.
 
“And have you cooked before?”

“Well, no.
 
Chang usually does that.
 
The most I do is buy fruit or something like that.
 
Slice cheese and meats.”

“Then what inspired you to try and cook tonight’s supper?”

“Because I’m a wife now.
 
I was trying to care for my husband’s needs.”

He pushed back his chair slightly, a smile still on his face.
 
“Come here.”
 
He held out his hand until she took it.
 
Mack tugged her gently until she fell onto his lap.
 
“Cassie darlin’, don’t you know you already satisfy my needs?”

“Stuart James McKenzie, I swear you are a lust-mad man.”

“Only for you, Cassiopeia Elizabeth McKenzie.
 
Only for you,” he whispered against her lips.

***

Two days later, after a long day of strategy meetings, Mack came home tired and irritable.
 
Cassie greeted him at the door with a long kiss.

“Ah, that’s the best thing that has happened to me all day.”

“Bad day?”

“How one man can wreak so much havoc I’ll never understand.”

“Am I correct in assuming you are referencing Bonaparte?”

“Aye.
 
After we eat, I need to spread the maps out on the table.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

“A fresh pair of eyes might be just the thing.
 
Perhaps you’ll see something I can’t.
 
What do you know about America?”

“Other than they are ‘upstart colonists’?”

“That’s about it.
 
Right now, they’re like an irritating gnat, swarming about and trying to draw our attention from what’s going on with Bonaparte.
 
I just don’t know what they have to win with this war.
 
They already have their freedom.
 
What more could they want?”

“Have you not been reading the papers?”

“Of course I read the papers?”

“All right then.
 
Do you read the flyers that are printed by the sympathizers of both sides, the French and the Americans?”

“What’s the use?
 
That’s all just rubbish.”

“That ‘rubbish’ is very informative.
 
For example, embargoes and impressment are the main reasons behind the Americans’ war declarations.”