Page 77 of For a Scot's Heart Only
“I did try to warn you off.” A fire was growing in her belly. She’d not give up without a fight. “And if you must know, I do not insert tin discs in my coins.” A common trick of counterfeiters. “I merely transform one currency for another.” Which earned her a dubious look. “Nor are we housebreakers. The Countess of Denton invited members of our league to her house for an art salon the night we took the gold—ourgold, mind you, which she stole from us—andbribingis such a... a callous word. I prefer to call it a business transaction.”
“That’s quite a list. You might be splitting hairs with it, but I appreciate your honesty.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Do you know what I find amusing about it?”
“What?”
“It’s coming from a woman with an unwavering sense of absolutes, yet she just argued for ambiguity.”
She narrowed her eyes. He was like a dog with a bone, her sea wolf. “You’re talking about love, while I’m talking about justice.”
Thomas laughed in good humor. “The crown would take a different view.”
“Hang the crown.”
She slumped against the back rest, recalcitrant. Why did the good opinion of Mr. Thomas West matter? He caressed her nape and for the life of her, she couldn’t move. She was just like the cat, Mr. Fisk—ensorcelled by the shipmaster’s stroking hand. Leaves skittered past their feet, and more crows descended. Gardeners were coming as well. One of them hailed Thomas, and he waved back.
“By the by, there’s a tea or luncheon waiting for us. Might be cold by now. I was supposed to lead you to the main building some time ago.”
Thomas, however, thought it more important to listen to her. His kindness again, so unexpected from the rugged man of the sea. Now people were coming, and their interlude was over. Mary corrected her posture and pasted a smile on her face.
“Refreshments sound wonderful.” She started to rise, but Thomas caught her wrist.
Green, green eyes held her captive.
“Tell me. Am I falling for a Jacobite rebel?”
The shipmaster’s stare was backlit with dangerous messages. Lust she understood. The others left her shaky.
Falling for her was dangerous.
“Aren’t you going to answer me?” he asked.
“No.”
A subtle battle was launched. The warfare between two hearts, one English, another Scots. She’dgiven Thomas West enough ammunition to sink her. But the greater war was of the heart, and this, their first real skirmish. His hand still cuffed her forearm, bare skin to bare skin. Her breasts, her belly, and her thighs tingled joyously, ready to surrender. This was perilous ground—desire and affections braiding with hazardous secrets. Mostly hers.
Lips clamping, she’d say no more. In the distance gardeners stopped their progress. Two men, armed with rakes and shovels, were listening to an older gentleman in a fine frock coat. The head gardener, she assumed, wishing he would make haste and join Thomas and her.
Thomas stood up and eyed those men as though calculating how much time he had left in this treasonous conversation.
“About your list,” he said in hushed tones. “You failed to mention whether or not you’re done with your treasure hunt.” He pulled her close, a patina of worry on his face. “Are you? Done?”
Clever man.The shipmaster was navigating treacherous waters—and her confessional had been just the invitation to guide him there.
“Our question-and-answer time is done.” She put a hand over his until he let go.
“But we were just getting started.”
She felt a feline smile growing. Her sea wolf was racing ahead. Someone ought to put a leash on him.
“Aren’t there rules to how fast ships can travel the Thames?” she asked.
He cocked his head, curious at this conversational turn. “The king’s harbor master likes to think so.”
“Then let this be a warning,Mr. West.You’ve exceeded it.”
“Gone too fast, have I?”
“Yes.”
