Chapter Seventeen

Aaron worked through to the evening when the light began to fade, and his eyes grew bleary as he looked through the reports gathered from all around Scotland. Many reports, long and labored, had led to naught, in his opinion. But his spies were everywhere, and his job was to keep abreast of any unrest or foment in his country.

He considered meeting Crystal tonight to be his reward for completing this difficult work. Little by little, he was breaking through her natural reserve, and he was enjoying it immensely. Just thinking about her comeliness and the taste of her kisses gave him a cockstand. The way she’d kissed him this afternoon, he knew she would respond to the pleasure he could give her in his bed. The lassie had been almost mindless with desire.

He forced himself to sift further through his papers, glad to get to the end of the box. It was his job to ensure troublemakers were watched. Spies first reported to the Scottish territorial lords trusted by the prince regent, then the lords reported their findings back to Aaron, who sent along any real issues to the prince. This current box had come from the Stuart lord who was most vigorous in his duty.

The weavers of Glasgow and Paisley had threatened to go on strike for fair wages. This report Aaron read with interest because he had a large stake in Mr. Macintosh’s weaving business. The fact that Crystal now taught there made even the goings-on of commoners interesting. With her expressive green eyes and urgent manner, she could probably talk to him of anything and he would find it fascinating. It was her depth of passion about everything she did that had captured his admiration, and he appreciated her gratitude for his assistance. Her sorrows made his heart clench, and her happiness in small-won achievements made him soar as well. But most of all, her need of him, her wanton excitement, made his world seem brighter in a way he’d never imagined possible.

He forced his attention back to the box to read more about the weavers, aware that it was time to order Jenson to collect him in his barouche and drive to Brewster’s Tavern. Damn it, his cockstand was annoying, but he wouldn’t give himself relief, not until after he introduced that pleasure to Crystal.

He massaged his forehead instead. So far, the weavers’ wage complaints had been conducted in a legal manner. They had unsuccessfully petitioned parliament, but his spy reported that secret societies had formed. The leaders had taken oaths of brotherhood, and they were speaking about insurrection. The next comment got his notice: The delegates from each of the weaving districts were meeting at the Brewster’s Tavern tonight.

His heart sank.

Crystal must be attending that same meeting.

And no doubt the pig of a Stuart, too.

He leaped up on hearing the clock strike seven, and he pulled on his hat, coat, and leather gloves, determined to get Crystal as far away from the place as possible. She had made an enemy of the Stuart, and the laird was well-known to be cruel to women.