Page 18 of Wild Hearts

McCabe grimaced; it was the closest he could come to a smile. "Did you anticipate how much I would charge?"

"You usually ask ten percent, but in my case it will be double. Four thousand, right?"

"You amaze me," he muttered with heavy sarcasm.

Paris wrote out a promissory note on his bank. He was satisfied. He had been prepared to pay five.

"From now on you will only be known as the party of the first part."

Paris took a paper from his doublet. "I have here a signed affidavit from the woman's maid that she has been chaperoned at all times, and the merchandise is still intact. I personally will not sign any document, but you will sign affidavits on my behalf that she will be returned in exactly the same condition that she was taken."

"Where is the gold to be delivered?" McCabe asked. -

"In England. Berwick-upon-Tweed. I will give you directions to a specific building when you have an agreement for me. There, the gold will be exchanged: for the lady, and everyone will be happy."

"Is there a deadline?"

"I don't think he will waste any time trying to get her back. Abrahams will not find it too difficult to get his hands on twenty thousand in gold."

McCabe poured Scotch whisky into lead crystal glasses, and they drank to their agreement.

"I will have my sister Shannon drop by soon, in case you need to get a message to me," said Paris as he departed.

He bought a few presents and headed home. He covered the distance in two and a half hours because he traveled alone. Before the evening meal, he dispatched three of his men to keep round-the-clock watches. One at Callum McCabe's law office, one at Maxwell Abrahams's home and the other at Abrahams's bank, with instructions to report all comings and goings.

After dinner, the family spent a typical evening around the fire entertaining one another. Damascus played her stringed lute so beautifully that it brought tears to Tabby's eyes. Alexander recited Murdock Maclean's famous poem, "The Tartan," and Paris quoted his favorite, "The Ballad of Chevy Chase." All the others joined in and quoted, verse after verse until the ballad was finished. As Tabby listened to Paris quote the lines with such relish, she realized how attractive and magnetic the man was. There was an overpowering maleness about him that called to something within her. She feared him, yet upon occasion, that fear thrilled her and tempted her to dare his manhood. More and more often she found his eyes upon her, almost caressing her with his glance.

They began to play a game where one quoted a couple of lines of a poem, and the next person in the informal circle finished the remaining lines. Tabby dragged her thoughts from Paris to concentrate upon the game. She listened to them in amazement. They were all so educated and witty, good-looking, well dressed and clever as monkeys. Whenever it was her turn, she just shook her head helplessly, and they quickly passed over her until Paris took pity on her and quoted: "And see ye not yon bonnie road that winds about the fernie brae?"

Tabby smiled her thanks at him shyly as she finished: "That is the road to fair Elfland where thou and I this night maun gae."

As he moved around the circle to stand behind her; her heartbeat quickened and raced madly. When he put his hands gently upon her shoulders, she jumped as if a red-hot iron had touched her skin. He bent low and whispered, "I knew you'd respond to me."

It was impossible for her to think coherently while he was so close. Suddenly, they were all looking at her, and she realized that once again it was her turn. In frustration she said, "Je ne sais rien, I know nothing!"

"Oh, how delightful, you speak French," cried Damascus.

"Paris had a year in France and Italy, but none of the rest of us have been," complained Shannon.

"That reminds me, you've never told us what you did in Italy," complained Venetia.

Paris winked. "I picked up a little Italian and had a marvelous time."

"Is there any need to be lewd? Why is it rnen always have to be lewd?" asked Damascus, her fastidious little nose up in the air.

"For God's sake, Damascus, your are completely bereft of a sense of humor, accused Alexandria.

"Oh, no, she isn't." Troy laughed. "She entertains Cessford, doesn't she?"

"For the last time, what have you got against Robert Kerr?" demanded Damascus.

"I've been telling you— it's that awful red hair."

"God, Damascus, you are slow-witted," said Alexandria. "He catches you with that one every time."

Paris took his hands from Tabby's shoulders. "I have something for you," he murmured low. "Did you know that when you get a present, your eyes sparkle like amethysts?" Paris handed out his gifts to the others first.

Damascus cried, "Oh, Paris, perfume. Mmm, if I'd had some of this last night, I think Robert might have proposed."

---