“I was feeding the ducks in Hyde Park a couple of months ago when a thief approached, threatened me with a knife, and made off with my reticule while my maid was distracted by an injured child. You witnessed the act and chased down the culprit. We’ve been meeting regularly ever since.”
He chuckled lightly. His hand fell away, leaving a cool spot in its place. “Ye’ve quite the imagination, Miss Russell.”
“You’ve no idea,” she murmured, so low she doubted he heard her.
“Now look at me.” She did as he asked and was instantly snared by the force of his gaze. “Think of something that makes ye happy – yer favorite thing in the world. That’s it. If yer parents are watching us now, they’ll believe ye’re incredibly fond of me. Will ye tell me what’s on yer mind?”
She’d never shared her greatest pleasure with anyone. “Perhaps some other time.”
Disappointment dimmed his eyes for a second before he smiled back as if she were the sun, the moon, and the stars in his own private universe. It was enough to make her forget who he really was – a criminal—and that this whole thing was only pretend.
“Give me something else then. If we’ve known each other as long as ye say, then we need to become more familiar. Let’s start with yer favorite color.”
She shook herself and forced herself to concentrate. “Red. What about yours?”
“Green,” he told her. “The exact same shade as yer eyes.”
Heavens.
If she didn’t know any better she’d think he was genuinely trying to win her heart. She glanced away, steeling herself against the appreciative warmth with which his words filled her. It was important she stay focused. “I favor daffodils to other flowers and wish they would bloom all year round. My favorite food is pancakes, either with raspberry jam or with sugar and lemon.”
“Pancakes aren’t really a food. They’re a desert, wouldnae ye say?” She frowned at him and he grinned. “Very well. Yer favorite food is pancakes. What else?”
“I don’t like spiders or insects in general. When I was little I fell off a swing and broke my arm. I’ve always wanted a dog but Mama won’t allow animals into the house so I’ll have to wait with that. Unlike most young ladies, I’d rather engage in shooting contests and archery than embroidery or painting.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Why is that?”
“Aside from the fact that it’s much more fun?” When he nodded she said, “My father’s a military man, or was, until he retired a few years ago. When he realized he’d only have daughters, he chose to raise me, the oldest, as he would have done a son.”
“And now he demands ye transform into the perfect young lady.” MacNeil snorted and shook his head. “Foolish man.”
“I thought he and Mama had abandoned the idea of getting me married,” Charlotte told him. “I hadn’t even heard of Mr. Cooper until this morning when they decided to mention him over breakfast.”
“Jesus.”
“I believe they thought I’d be thrilled, but…” She scrunched her nose.
He took her hand and held it lightly within his own. “Ye weren’t. Because they tried to remove yer choices?”
“In a way, I suppose. Truth is, I’ve no wish to marry anyone.”
“Not ever?”
She shrugged. “The idea of tying myself to a man I don’t love for the sole purpose of appeasing someone else’s dream feels wrong. I’d much rather be the master of my own fate, live by my own rules, and be independent.”
“What about children?”
“My sisters are sure to produce enough for me to dote on without me having to deal with all the challenges motherhood poses.”
He began threading their fingers together, distracting her briefly with the sight of his much larger palm enveloping hers. A raised line spanned his knuckles, prompting her to wonder how he’d received the scar and how many others he had on his body.
“So ye will become a spinster, living alone somewhere in seclusion. Is that yer goal?”
“I’d invite other likeminded women to live with me,” she said, her voice a tad harsher than she intended. Becoming defensive only increased her irritation, mostly with herself, but drat it all, the way he was speaking suggested he thought her a dimwitted fool.
“Ye dinnae ken what ye’d be giving up, lass.”
“Then so much the better since I shan’t know what I’m missing.”
“Oh, ye’ll know all right, when ye’re lying in yer empty bed. Yer brain may not want to admit it, but yer body’s sure to do so eventually.”
“What are you talking about?” She was certain she shouldn’t be asking this question and yet it popped out, before she was able to stop it.
Mr. MacNeil raised her hand to his lips, abrading her with the hair from his beard. As he gazed deep into her eyes, he said, “Ye’re a passionate woman, Miss Russell. ’Twould be a shame if ye didnae allow yerself to experience the joys of lovemaking.”
Charlotte gasped. She didn’t think of herself as a prudish miss who was easily shocked by indelicate words or blunt remarks, but having a practical stranger speak to her so brazenly was enough to make her ears burn.
“I think we’ve talked enough about me. Let’s discuss your association with Carlton Guthrie instead, shall we?”
By God, he’d not expected the woman to challenge him so directly, though why the hell not, he’d no idea. In spite of the brief vulnerability she’d revealed when her parents had tried to lay down the law, she was impressively brave.
Deciding to reward her with nothing less than complete honesty, he said, “I’ve known him for almost two decades - since before he became the Scoundrel of St. Giles. Now that he’s walked away from that life, I’ve taken over the running of The Black Swan. And while I do keep my ear to the ground and make sure the worst kind of scum are dealt with, the need to vanquish crime with violence has been diminished significantly. As the Duke of Windham, Guthrie’s influence is greater than ever. Bow Street listens to him now in ways they never did before. So for the most part, I simply point them in the right direction and let them handle the monsters.”
“And the rest of the time?”
Blayne stared at her. “Ye want to know if I’m capable of bloodshed. Is that it?”
She sighed as if he’d just tripped over his own feet and banged his head. “If you recall, my initial reason for hiring you was for protection, so it’s only reasonable for me to ask if you’re used to fighting off thugs.”
“Um…” It was his turn to gape at her as if she were daft. “Have ye seen what I look like?”
“Yes. You are impressively large.” She knit her brow. “What is it? Why are you laughing?”
He coughed and did his best to swallow the crass rejoinder that landed upon the tip of his tongue. “It’s nothing. Do continue.”
She gave him a look to suggest she was sure she’d missed something, which of course she had, though he’d be damned if he was about to give her an explanation.
“My point is,” she said, sounding a little disgruntled, “I’d like to know what you’re capable of. As a form of reference, per se.”