Highland Wolf (Highland Brides) (27 page)

The inn was quiet, and then Angel laughed.

"I've a feeling he would be quite disappointed if he did not meet you. Albert will take you to Cape Hood."

"Cape Hood?" she asked.

Angel smiled. The expression was nothing if not angelic. "'Tis where he conducts his ... business."

Tara turned slowly, absorbing her surroundings. Cape Hood. She knew Roman had been here before, had watched a man being killed. For a moment pure panic seized her. She should not have brought him here. Should not have dragged him into her thievery. He was a barrister, a nobleman. But no. He was much more than that.

Though she tried, she could not forget how he had held her during their lovemaking, during her nightmares. He had stroked her and cuddled her, and with his touch, light seemed to return to her world.

She should not have allowed him to come along. But... She turned her gaze to Roman. In the night, the huge warehouse was lighted with only one candle. The building seemed to echo thoughts as clearly as it did words. Roman stood only inches from her side. Even without touching him, she could feel his warmth, his strength.

He was not a lad to be allowed or disallowed to do anything, she reminded herself. He was here because he had insisted on coming along. She had to remember that, had to focus. She was Salina, Romanian, proud, fearless.

"I have waited already too long," she said, rising to pace the dirt floor. Roman rose with her, saying nothing.

"They'll come soon enough," Albert said.

"Soon enough has come and gone!" she said, turning to pace again. "When—"

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her. She stopped, drew a deep breath. She
was
Salina. Nodding once, she took a seat on a crate some yards from the candle.

A door creaked open. For just a moment she could see a man silhouetted against the relative light of the outdoors, a lean man of average height.

Silence settled over the building.

Salina sat very still, very straight, staring at the dark figure that stood well outside the pale circle of candlelight. The quiet stretched out before her, but she remained silent, waiting, her expression unchanged. Roman stood beside her, immobile, watchful.

"You wanted to see me," said Lord Dagger. His voice was low and bland, but with a strange inflection that did not quite match the dialect of his peers.

Tara canted her head slightly and tilted her lips into the semblance of a cool smile. "I still don't
see
you."

The hidden form chuckled, and although he did not move from the shrouding shadows, she could feel his gaze sweep over her. "Angel tells me you have something of value ... on your person."

She inclined her head like a princess and raised her brows at the obvious double entendre. "'Tis a pretty enough piece I've brought."

"Move into the light," Lord Dagger said.

She remained as she was. "'Tis you that's in the shadows, Daggerman, and I have a yearning to see what valuables you might have... on your person."

"On your feet, whore," said Albert. She sensed him moving closer, heard a scuffle, a gasp of breath, and then a yelp of pain as he thudded against something solid.

She turned with casual slowness toward the disruption. Roman stood with his legs braced far apart and his bare chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. In one fist he held a dirk.

"Who is the watchdog?" Dagger asked.

"He is called Theaelo," she said, turning her attention slowly back to Dagger.

"Does he talk or just attack on command?"

"Theaelo considers it a privilege to guard me in silence."

Dagger chuckled. "I might feel the same if there are ... rewards."

She nodded curtly at the compliment. The dust felt cool and soft against her bare feet. "I think we can come to a mutally ... rewarding arrangement."

"I've been known to satisfy."

She offered him a pouting smile. "There is satisfaction and there is satisfaction, Lord Dagger."

"Indeed," he said.

She drew out the golden mermaid.

For a moment he was absolutely quiet, then, "Lord Crighton will be quite upset."

Tara felt as if her heart were about to beat its way free of her chest. She raised her brows slowly. "You know the piece?"

"I've admired it."

"And I stole it."

Silence again.

"How?"

She dropped the mermaid unceremoniously back into her bag and paced a few feet. "Every woman must be allowed her secrets."

"But yours are so interesting, Princess. I wonder why you come here."

She stopped with the light to her back. It would show her silhouette and little else. "Let us just say that I have no wish to marry a man as doddering as my grandfather."

"So they planned to marry ya to an old man?"

Turning with a jerk, she paced again, angrily now. "I am young!" she said, drawing a fist toward her bosom. It was dyed, pushed high, and well exposed above the drawstring decollete of her simple blouse. "I have needs."

"Indeed."

She stopped again, giving him a glimpse of her profile in the candlelight before she turned toward him. "And I have talents."

Though she wasn't certain, she thought he held his breath.

"I am offering you the mermaid as goodwill," she said simply. "’Tis yours with the agreement that what I bring to you henceforth will be shared half and half."

"You steal it, I sell it," he said simply.

She lifted her chin a smidgen. "You'll not find another as good as I."

"Have ye, perhaps, heard of a man called the Shadow?"

Her heart thundered on. "I admit that I only just arrived in this place you call Firthport. I've made few acquaintances."

"He's been a thorn in my side."

She smiled. "Then let me be a soothing potion."

"A tempting potion you make, too. But I've found that fools act in haste. Hence, I propose a new proposition. You keep the mermaid for now. I have a mission for you, and if you are successful in that theft, we will be partners. Three parts for me, one part for you."

She smiled and shook her head. "No. I will steal what you like, but you will get half and I will get half."

He laughed. "As you wish then, and later, we will make more personal terms."

She stared into the impenetrable darkness at him, then walked back to Roman and settled a hand on his bare chest. "I enjoy personal," she purred.

Chapter 20

“Ye’ll na even think upon it," Roman said. The journey home had been long and slow, for they had taken a circuitous course and stopped often to listen. But no one followed them. Still, they'd barely spoken until the door was closed and barred behind them.

"’Tis the only way," Tara said, lighting a candle. "I've but to steal the bracelet Dagger covets, and the necklace will be ours."

Roman gritted his teeth and stormed across the floor to swing her around, but when she lifted her face he saw the aching fatigue clear as sunrise in her eyes.

"Lass," he said, worry etched in his voice, "are ye well?"

"Tired," she said, her knees buckling.

Catching her gently, Roman lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She didn’t object, but lay quietly with her eyes closed and her head pillowed against his bare chest. It was a feeling of such exquisite agony, that for a moment he could not speak.

"Thank you." Her breath was feather soft against his skin.

Roman settled onto the low pallet, still holding her. Letting his own eyes fall closed, he absorbed the feeling that tantalized him. "For what?"

"For saving my life."

He tightened his grip. Terror had been the course of the evening, terror and more terror as he remembered the murder he had seen committed in that same warehouse not many nights before. But she was safe now, at least for a while.

He drew a deep breath, still trying to relax.

The risks she had undertaken were immense. It seemed there were a thousand things he should reprimand her for. But she felt so soft and light in his arms, so fine and delicate. Still, those characteristics only made his worry deeper.

"Ye did na need ta be so bold, lass," he said, remembering her sharp staccato voice, her flirting, her hand, warm, but softly trembling as she had stroked his chest for all to see.

It had been a strange sensation, mixed with equal amounts of eroticism and terror.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "My apologies," she said softly. "I fear Salina is not a subtle character."

Roman frowned into her eyes. "But ye are na Salina."

"Aye, I am," she said. 'There is a part of me that is her and a part of her that is me."

"I fear tonight ye were all her. And bold enough to age me fifty years."

She smiled, a soft tender smile that Salina would never wear, and reached out to run a single finger gently along the raised vein in his right hand. "Boldness covers fear. 'Tis a tiresome thing holding back the drowning terror." She shivered a little. "The evil in that place was too thick to let me breathe. But you..." Her gaze met his. "I think you have no fear, Scotsman."

Images of Albert lunging toward Tara stabbed through Roman's mind. Terror welled up again, but he pushed it back and touched her face. Her skin was velvety soft, but her dark, false hair felt coarse against his fingers. He pushed it aside, then eased the kerchief and wig from her head.

Her golden hair was confined with pins. He released them one by one, massaged her scalp, and watched her eyes fall closed again. He knew the moment sleep took her. Her lips parted slightly and her breath was kitten-soft against his skin. His chest ached with that light contact.

"I do fear," he whispered into the quiet. "I fear losing ye."

Roman awoke with a start. Daylight shone through the wooden shutters. What had he heard? Tara stirred in his arms. He glanced at her, set his hand on his dirk, and rose quickly to his feet.

"’Tis me. Liam," came a voice from outside.

Roman unbarred the door and the boy slipped inside.

He was no more than thirteen years of age. Lean and gangly, he grinned at Tara, then flitted his gaze to Roman. His dark eyes hurried up and down before settling on Roman's pierced and hooked ear. "I knew when ya decided to go fishing you'd hook a big one," he said and laughed.

Roman noticed Tara's blush, but she covered it quickly.

"You followed Dagger?" she asked.

"Aye, I followed him," said Liam, "but I lost him. 'E 'ad a 'orse, a fine dark steed. Fleet as I am, I fear the 'orse was the faster."

"What direction did he go?"

"North, up Cartway."

"Cartway," Tara mused. She had begun to pace, her fair brows pulled low over her eyes. "Who is he?"

Liam shrugged his shoulders. "'E’s a murderin' thief with a ring of murderin' thieves that surround 'im. Do ya need ta know more?"

She paced again, then shook her head. "No. You're right. All I need to do is steal the bracelet as Dagger requested."

Liam paced to the hearth. There was a small loaf of bread there, which he took and consumed with astounding speed.

"How far did ye follow Dagger?" Roman asked.

"Till me lungs gave out," said the boy.

"Did he turn, slow down?"

"Nay." Liam scowled. "'Tis sorry I am ta disappoint ya, Tara."

"'Tis no matter," she said. "'Twould have made little difference if I could resite his family tree and entire history. We know what we know and will have to be especially careful because of it."

Roman considered saying again that she would not go through with this theft, but there seemed little point, so he stood in silent thought.

"Twas a thrill to watch ya work," Liam said. "Wouldn't a never knowed ya weren't Rom. Me ..." He shook his head. The bread was long gone. He reached into his pocket now to draw out a coin and roll it with silvery quickness between his fingers. "I can do the light-hands work. But won't never be anyone ta compare ta your acting."

Pure admiration shone in Liam's eyes. Or did it? Was there, perhaps, a touch of envy? Roman wondered. Why did Tara trust this boy so when she trusted none other?

"Where were ye that ye could see so well?" asked Roman quietly.

Liam rolled the coin again. It flashed between his fingers only to suddenly appear in the other hand seemingly by magic and without conscious thought. "I was on the roof. By the by, ya done a fair job of acting yourself, Scotch. The silent Rom, all muscle and balls." He laughed. "What ya gonna do now, Tara?"

She paced and bit her lip. "I've little choice but to steal Harrington's bracelet as he asked."

"Nay. Tis too dangerous," Roman said. "We'll find some other way."

"What other way?" asked Tara.

Roman turned toward her. Fear for her making his stomach churn. "Any other way."

'There is little time remaining," she said. "And we’re so close. We've but to steal Harrington's bracelet, take it to Dagger, and find out where he stashed the necklace."

"So simple," Roman said, "if ye dunna mind dying."

The room fell quiet.

"And do ye, lass?"

"I've no wish to die."

"And I've na wish ta let ye," Roman said.

"You do not hold my life in your hands, Scotsman," she said. "You may look the part of the bare-chested protector, but I've been surviving alone for a good many years. And I'll not have you telling me how to live my life now."

Anger slowly flooded over Roman. "Ye'll na go," he said.

She lifted her chin at him. "Oh, I'll go. I'll have the bracelet. And if you're too stubborn to take it, 'tis fine with me. I'm certain I can think of something else to do with it."

"Ye'll na—" Roman began, but Liam's words intersected his own.

"Mayhap Scotch is right, Tara. 'Tis dangerous, even for you."

Tara turned her gaze to Liam's. Roman narrowed his eyes and wondered what passed between them. Something unsaid. Something merely understood.

Tara sighed. "Let us consider it then. Mayhap we’ll think up a better plan. What do we know of Dagger thus far?"

"’Tis said 'e killed James," Liam said softly.

"I've heard as much," she said.