Page 63 of The Scot Who Loved Me
He’d let things simmer. Anne needed to laugh after this morning. He’d not press his pursuit. Not yet. Another raven-haired woman was a persistent presence, a beautiful spider spinning a web of deceit.
How much did the countess know about Anne and her league?
Chapter Twenty
The apothecary visit ended their market day. Anne was distracted, claiming her ledgers needed some tidying in preparation for the countess’s surprise visit the next day. He never got to dance with her at the White Lamb and he didn’t get to see the hidden place behind Black Ravens Court. If he was a cricket player, his strike rate would be zero.
While on St. Olave’s Street, they begged a ride from an empty dray with Mermaid Brewery branded on the wood. They rode, legs dangling off the back like rustics newly arrived from the country. He didn’t press conversation on their bumpy ride. The youthful Will MacDonald would’ve plowed forcefully onward, but the older and wiser man knew better. Sometimes a woman needed to be alone with her thoughts.
The dray eventually found Bermondsey Lane where the driver delivered them to Anne’s broken gate.
Will passed coins to the driver and walkedbackward, touching the brim of his tricorn. “My thanks for the ride, sir.”
A smile creased the driver’s weathered face. He dropped the coins in his pocket and snapped the reins. “Good day to you too, sir.”
Anne waited at her gate, the basket tucked in her elbow. She’d taken back the basket and her conversation when they left the apothecary’s shop. At present, her brows knit as if a remembrance teased her.
“Near St. Olave’s Street, you said something about wanting to talk to me. Was that idle chatter?”
“No’ idle chatter.”
Winds were picking up. Anne’s hem stirred and black tresses blew across her face. He dared not brush them off her cheek. A greater wisdom warned him to tread with care. Today’s laughter had been as intimate as kissing her wrist. Playfulness was an innocent bond yet its threads could run as deep as any shared secret. For that reason, he reached around Anne and pushed open the gate, careful not to touch her.
She lifted her face to his. “You’re a good man, Will MacDonald. I sometimes wish things could’ve worked.”
His smile felt rusted and out of place. This was the scourge of a man who wanted love. Annewishedthings could’ve worked—past tense. Those were the words of a woman who’d weighed their circumstances and found them lacking. Or him.
Hope shriveled in his chest.
“There is no higher compliment.”
To be a good man in her eyes, to win that certain glow she bestowed on him would suffice for now. He was a fighter after all. He’d charged into war, facing incredible odds. His time with Anne and her league wasn’t done. Nor was he.
“One question has been plaguing me about your league and the countess.”
“But my display in the salon this morning squelched that.” She stared at the river, chastened. “It is only natural that you would want to know more. And it’s not as if I’ve been entirely forthcoming. Not on purpose mind you, but the effect is the same.” Arms crossed, she wedged the basket between them. “Ask your question, and I will answer to the best of my ability.”
Between Anne’s high pattens and him down a step, they were eye level. Her directness was refreshing, a trait he appreciated.
He kept his hand on the gate. “How did you come to know the countess was behind the Jacobite gold in London?”
“That’s what you want to know?”
“It’s a good place to start.”
She toed a pebble on flagstone, squeezing her basket close. “It is.”
Her feet shifted and small jars rolled and clinked within her basket. He gently took the burden from her, wanting nothing between them. No objects and no secrets. Arms limp at her side, Anne seemed to understand. He wasn’t an accomplice to her league. He was part of it. Part of her—his unsavory past included.
“The countess gave herself away when she managed to get into Dr. Cameron’s cell.” Annebrushed hair off her face and looked to the river. “The guards refused all bribes. A mark of how serious the crown was about the good doctor.”
“But you told me someone bribed their way into his cell.”
“They did, but not with money. With fear.” She turned her gaze on him. It was vivid and sharp as a blade slicing to the bone.
A nasty shiver chilled his spine. Seven years ago, he’d witnessed Ancilla meeting unsavory men, wretches with empty eyes and no mercy in their souls. Men who would do anything for a price.
“The countess threatened a guard’s family. Her bribe, if you will, was their safety and well-being.” Anne hesitated, her eyes squeezing shut. “I won’t tell you what she threatened to do.”
