Page 55 of The Highland Heist
Grace met Frederick’s gaze. “Where is Mrs. James?”
Frederick’s attention sharpened on Grace, and perhaps he was reading her thoughts as he’d done so well in the past. Without a word, he grabbed her hand and turned toward the kitchen, the sound of their footsteps muted by the carpets. They slipped down the narrow hallway toward Mrs. Lindsay’s room and peered through the door. The sight before them almost made Grace stumble: Mrs. James, standing over the older woman’s bed, holding a pillow.
Grace’s breath caught, but it wasn’t until her foot shifted on the creaky floor that Mrs. James spun around, eyes wide. A nervous laugh escaped her as she pressed her palm to her chest. “Oh, good heavens, I thought the assailant had returned.” She dropped the pillow on the bed. “How may I be of service to you?”
“I believe Mrs. Dixon could use some refreshment, Mrs. James.” Grace answered, stepping forward into the room. “As you can imagine, she’s rather overwhelmed by all that’s happened over the last two days.”
Mrs. James’ smile stiffened, and her gaze flicked back to the bed. “But Cook shouldn’t be left alone in her state. I noticed her neck seemed crooked, and I fetched another pillow to make her comfortable.”
“We’ll stay with her until your return.” Frederick answered without hesitation and then unleashed a smile so genuine Grace would have thought he meant it, but for the lack of change in his eyes. How did he do that? It was so clever. “I’m rather rubbish at anything like making tea or offering refreshments.”
What a wonderful way to distract her! Oh, her dear husband was so clever. Grace pushed up her own smile. “And I’m not much better. I’ve already made a mess of the tea you brought into the parlor.”
The smile on Mrs. James’ face faltered. She sent a look from Frederick to Grace then down to Mrs. Lindsay, clearly hesitant.
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep a close eye on her.” Frederick said. “No one ever wants to lose an excellent cook.”
Oddly, his statement seemed to break whatever reserve Mrs. James had left. She relaxed, her face softening. “You’re right.” She rounded them toward the door. “I’ll return as soon as I’ve seen to Mrs. Dixon.”
She slipped down the small hallway. Frederick gestured for Grace to take the chair near the bed. “I’ll stay by the door to keep watch.”
“Very smart of you, Frederick. Because I think the walls have ears, but first things first. Just to be sure.” Grace leaned toward Mrs. Lindsay’s still frame and in a loud whisper said. “Someone is trying to steal your favorite cooking pot.”
The woman didn’t even flinch.
“What on earth are you doing, darling?” Frederick studied her as though she had sprouted feathers from her head.
Poor man. She thought her reasoning was quite obvious. “I had to make sure she was really unconscious, Frederick,” Grace explained, “and couldn’t hear us if we spoke about serious matters related to the case.”
He squinted at her, the adorably confused look spreading across his face.
“Cooks always have a favorite pot. My grandfather used to say that a good cook would practically rise from the dead to save it.”
Frederick’s lips quirked. He folded his arms across his rather impressive chest and leaned against the door with a casual grace. “Well then, it appears we are safe at the moment.”
If they weren’t in such a confined situation, Grace would be tempted to rush into Frederick’s impressive chest and kiss him senseless until he whisked her away to their room. Her face grew warm at the very thought. He seemed to follow her thoughts because one of his brows tipped in response. Well, perhaps that wasn’t so much his clairvoyance as her inability to maintain a neutral expression when it came to her admiration for him.
“You find the most unexpected times to divert my thoughts, Lady Astley,” he said, his voice low and amused.
“You started it,” she replied, a much needed smile playing on her lips.
One eyebrow arched in perfect synchronicity with the other. “Me?”
Her smile widened as her cheeks flushed. “You look rather dashing guarding the doorway in your linen suit.”
His eyes darkened in that deliciously dangerous way of his, though his posture remained as calm as ever. “Perhaps we can discuss how dashing you think of me later, in our room?”
“I think that’s an excellent proposal, my lord, worthy of extended conversation.” She cleared her throat and folded her hands in her lap like the demure wife she knew she wasn’t. “Now what did you discover from your visit to the Lucky Coin?”
He sent her a pointed look tagged on with a crooked smile that promised all sorts of things he didn’t speak. It really was quite remarkable to blend so many exciting things together into what was becoming her life. Mystery, intrigue, tenderness, danger, motherhood, travel, romance. Marriage kept proving better than any work of fiction she’d ever read.
Well, she didn’t like theverydangerous parts, except if it meant rescuing someone—or being rescued by her own personal hero.
And she didn’t like the death parts for any reason.
Or the near-death parts, except when it involved the opportunity to cane-fight or watch Frederick wield a pistol.
But so many of the other parts proved positively delightful.
