Page 127 of For a Scot's Heart Only
But their porridge was boiling, and there were plans to make. The countess, of course. The woman was a blight on their happiness, and the reason Margaret was gone.
Mary nibbled her lower lip and made her way to the pot hanging from an iron hook over the fire. Margaret’s return meant Thomas would leave. He was already gathering his things and putting them in his satchel.
Here for a short time... then he’d be gone.
Eyes shut, she hoarded the tenderness. The sound of his footsteps, his soap scenting the air, the tune he hummed under his breath. How dear this was. Almost sacred. When she opened her eyes, Mr. Fisk was rubbing her leg, his green eyes convincing her to part with more cream.
She scratched behind his ears, whispering, “We share the deepest affections for the same man, don’t we?”
The cherished gentleman was oblivious, scrubbing a white towel over his face.
“About tonight,” Thomas said. “Meet me at the Three Arrows in Nixon’s Square at nine o’clock. Do you know it?”
She scooped porridge into a bowl. “I know Nixon’s Square.”
“Wear suitable clothes, a scarf for your face. You do have clothes for this, don’t you?” Thomas said this while hiking up his breeches.
“Dark clothes, men’s breeches, suitable for skulking about in the dark? Yes.” She smiled and poured cream for Mr. Fisk. “I have those.”
Discussing the rest of the plans went smoothly. As house breaking went, this was small and precise. In through an open window to open a locked cabinet and take papers. Hardly exciting. Yet, every part of her felt alive. Margaret not being here was upsetting, but if Margaret had been here, Thomas wouldn’t be, a fact that kept niggling her as though her heart was big enough for one person or the other—not both.
She sipped her coffee. “I can’t help but feel guilty about Margaret.”
“If what Lady Denton told you is true, she’s not been harmed. Frightened, of course, but safe.” He took a seat at the table and tucked into his porridge. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Miss Thelen’s already found your sister.”
“There is that, yes.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.” She set down her coffee and looked him in the eye. “What happens afterward?”
Thomas went still. His reaction was unexpected, especially for a man who’d been so ardent.
“I meant after Margaret is safely returned and Ranleigh gets his papers.” She traced a smudge on the table. “What happens to you and me?”
“What do you want to happen?”
She angled her head, unsure. Was she suddenly sitting with a different version of Thomas West?
“I want to be with... you.”
“For how long, Mary? For a week? A day? Or thirty days?”
She flinched at his reference to the Red Rose room. Her arrangement, as it were.
“I’ve never met anyone like you. You’ve turned me upside down and made me rethink everything I’ve ever wanted. Consider this...” He opened his hand, palm up. “Tonight I’m going to break into the home of a prominent London citizen. A wretched woman who deserves it, but I’m doing it for you. I have no regrets, because you mean that much to me.”
Mr. Fisk rubbed her legs, purring. She leaned down and petted him.
“Why do I feel like there’s more trouble here?”
“I could say the same of you. Just yesterday you curtseyed to me as though we were strangers. Then, you told me Ranleigh informed you that you needed to leave London.”
“Yesterday was a mistake.”
“It was, and I came back because I want you safe.”
“That’s all?”
