Page 26 of All My Broken Dreams

“I meant that I can’t be around you for a whole weekend without wanting to kiss you.”

Her gaze dropped to her plate. “Oh.”

“Sorry. It was tough last night, trying to sleep. Sorry. I hate it when guys make girls responsible for their, uh–nevermind. Look, we better hurry up and eat before Mrs. Cameron gets tired of waiting.”

She forked a bite of tattie scone into her mouth and avoided his eye.Great.All he’d done was make her uncomfortable. He should have kept his mouth shut.Charm her, Alastair said, like that was a skill Deacon had. He was a clod, unused to girls. Alastair knew that about his nephew.

“I appreciate your honesty,” Robbie said quietly. “I can stay in Harry’s flat tonight. I don’t want to losethis.” She gestured to the breakfast or maybe it was the whole cafe vibe she didn’t want to lose.

“You won’t. I come here almost every morning.”

Her smile was wide and spontaneous. “That’s not what I meant. I can’t let myself get distracted. Finding Harry and bringing him home has to be my only concern.” Robbie twisted in her seat and reddened. “My mother–she’s not happy with only me. She doesn’t think I can do this. I can’t let her down, Deacon. I’m scared to death, but I have to find him.”

Deacon nodded as though his stomach wasn’t churning and his blood hadn’t frozen in his veins. He nodded as though it was fine with him either way.

Alastair would have to be told that his plan to keep her distracted was doomed to failure. And then the Chief of Fuil Bratach would understand that Robbie Listowel was a real and present danger.

Mrs. Cameron took forever to find the key on her ring and then paused to comment on the state of the foyer. “Whose boots would those be? And that bag of trash doesn’t belong in the front hall. I’m not paid to pick up after you lot.”

Deacon muttered something incomprehensible, then excused himself to go upstairs to his room for something heforgot. Robbie was left alone with Mrs. Cameron when they entered Harry’s flat.

The air was stale. Stuffy with dust. No sign of life.

The housekeeper switched on a light near the door and a dull yellow sconce flared to life. The room was furnished much like Deacon Wake’s with a sofa and armchairs from a few centuries ago. Leather and dark wood paneling. Bookcases that ran floor to ceiling.

Robbie scanned the room carefully, taking in the smallest detail. There was nothing personal in it. No photographs, magazines, newspapers or clothing. A tidy room that could belong to anyone. The only indication that there was a person living here once was in the tiny kitchen. A moss green pottery mug was on the counter as though set there and forgotten.

Robbie’s heart jumped when she saw it. “I gave him this. You said you dusted here regularly?”

“I don’t clean up after them. They’re responsible for doing their own washing up.”

She lifted the mug carefully. It was clean inside. Robbie opened the kitchen cupboards one at a time. Plates, cups, tea kettle, a saucepan and skillet.

“Does everything come with the room?”

“Each flat is fully equipped and furnished. Not that it comes cheap, mind. This flat is four hundred pounds per month. The savings is in having the hot plate to do his own cooking. If he took his meals in the dining hall, that’s a separate expense.”

“Harry didn’t have that kind of money. Our mother had money but she was against him coming here so she wouldn’t have paid for his lodging. Where did the money come from?”

“A credit check is done before the flat is let to any student or faculty member. Someone must have vouched for him, but it would have to be someone with clout to get past the housing board,” Mrs. Cameron added with a grunt. She crossed her armsaround her middle. “As I said, Harry moved out soon after arrival. I was not informed though he ought to have given me notice. It took me by surprise when your friend, Deacon Wake, told me Harry had moved on. I thought the lad was happy here.”

“You said he moved to the place up the road? Is that Dugald Croft?”

“Aye. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard the news. Harry Listowel was such a bonny, unaffected lad, too down-to-earth to be one of those blue bloods. Stranger things, I suppose….”

“What do you mean? Harry wasn’t anything special.”

“Not to the likes of you and me, but to those of them who place a value on these things, he is a direct descendent of one of the original families who founded the United Kingdom and that sets him apart. Regular folk keep their heads down and stay out of their way for the most part. If your brother is mixed up with that lot, you’d best keep well out of it too.”

Chapter Fourteen

Robbie nodded vaguely, trying to pierce through the woman’s accent to understand what she was saying. “They must have made a mistake about Harry. He’s my half-brother; we had different fathers, but if he came from some sort of nobility, my mother would have told me.”

Mrs. Cameron shook her head. “Nae, the reverse is more like if she knew what she was about. Your mam was protecting her boy by not telling him. Fuil Bratach might have started out as a noble undertaking, but it has a dark underside now. ”

A chill went through her. “Fuil Bratach?”

“It meansBlood Banner. It’s an ancient order of nobility and wealthy landowners whose purpose is to cling to power by any means necessary. Membership is through blood ties to the first families of the order. Your brother Harry was one of them if he was whisked away to Dugald Croft. That’s where they live; the latest cohort of offspring. They are educated at Locksley Hall before being dispatched all over the world to pull its strings.”

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