Yanking her hand free from the pocket, Flora turned to run for the bed. She was halfway across the room when the door slammed, and she turned to see Ruffles. He glowered at her, then his attention skimmed to the table and back at her when he realized the knife was missing.
“Where is it?”
The calm, clipped words slid across her skin as his eyes drifted to her hands, and a tremble ran down her spine. She held up her palms so he could see she was unarmed.
His regard returned to hers, and her tongue darted out, wetting her suddenly dry lips until she could muster a reply. She was about to speak when her gaze drifted to the incriminating object laying useless by the trunk.
His focus must have followed hers because his next words echoed of deadly warming. “Do not move.”
She fought to breathe again as he closed the distance to the weapon without taking his eyes from her. He needn’t have bothered; the ice in her limbs prevented movement.
He leaned down to take her weapon once again. His attention remained on her, but his head tilted toward his chest. “Did you take anything?”
“Nae. I was only looking for something that would help me get out of here.”
He straightened, and his body tightened. His brow creased, showing the strain similar to that she’d seen on Will’s face when he’d been afraid that they wouldn’t be able to put food on the table. But looking at everything he had, she squared her own shoulders—how could life be so hard when you had everything money could buy?
“So you were pretending. I was concerned about you.”
Was he? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know there was more to him than his money and title. It was easier to deny he could have real problems. But her act had been half-truth because she was weak from the lack of food in her belly. It was why she always made sure to keep something on hand.
She tossed his words and her nagging conscious aside. “Where is Nigel?”
Fear danced on her temple as her thoughts jumped around different scenarios of how this would end. She didn’t dare ask Ruffles if he was going to turn her over to the authorities. Yesterday she’d been able to bluff her way out of it, but if he figured out the watchman might believe him over her, she would be in shackles by the end of the day.
“Nigel is gone.”
Her lids shut, and she let out a breath but then opened up her eyes quickly, hoping he’d not seen her relief. Och, she needed nourishment because she could feel her strength fading.
The silence dragged on as he studied her as if she had just stomped on and tarnished his perfectly polished boots. She wanted to fill the void but couldn’t think of anything to say. His voice evened out as the muscles in his face relaxed and no longer showed the mistrust it had moments ago.
Motioning to the table with the point of the knife, he instructed, “Sit.”
All she could do was nod and obey, the whole time wondering if she should have taken the pistol, but no, she hated them. The violence of seeing a man shot on the docks once had left her terrified of guns.
“Why was Nigel here?” Somehow, she managed to keep the trembling from her voice as she slid into the chair. She kept her shoulders stiff, and her chin tilted up toward the Englishman as he moved back to the door to bolt her exit.
He wasn’t wearing his ruffles. His exposed neck was straight and strong. The button on the top of his shirt had been left undone, and although he wore a jacket, he’d not donned his vest. Wild, furious curls skirted around his ears in golden waves. He looked perfectly disheveled, and she couldn’t take her eyes from him.
Leaning up against the door, deadly powerful with his arms crossed and his blue gaze focused on her, he reminded her of a wildcat intent on having fox for dinner. Odd—she didn’t feel threatened but had to tell herself not to stand up and walk toward the mesmerizing beast to feel his glorious mane. Why did she have an urge to get closer to the threat?
She shivered.
He didn’t answer but stalked toward her, his eyes darkening. Ruffles took his jacket off as if he were about to enter a pugilist match. But when he reached her, he wrapped the warm folds of fabric around her shoulders, then turned his back on her as his male musk drifted up, and she inhaled the pleasant undertones. She’d never liked the smell of a man before.
As she shook her head to dislodge the thought, she noticed him pause to lift the lid of the trunk. He dropped her knife into the depths of the chest, then pulled a key from his pocket and leaned down to lock her weapon out of her grasp.
Looping her arms into the sleeves of his jacket, she wrapped the oversized material around her midsection, both warming her and hiding the nearly exposed breast she’d almost forgotten about. The fabric was soft, and a giggle almost escaped when she realized it was probably the most expensive thing that had ever touched her body. If she’d known it smelled this nice, she would have asked for his jacket sooner.
Turning back toward her, he stalked across the room as the muscles of his legs bulged with power in the tight pants that clung like a second skin. She tore her gaze away and met his eyes as he eased into the chair opposite her.
“You have caused me a great deal of distress.” Crossing his arms, he reclined back and shot one leg out to the side like a lazy cat about to lick its side. It didn’t escape her attention that he neglected to answer why the authorities had sought him out.
“Well then, just let me leave, and ye willnae have to worry after me any longer.”
“It appears that you trouble quite a few men.”
Flushing, she tightened her arms, hugging herself before another chill could seize her.
“This is what we are going to do today.” Straightening and pulling his legs together, he leaned on the table and started ticking off his list on long nimble fingers. Her father’s ring taunted her from his finger.
“One, we shall eat.” The first digit went down, and her stomach rumbled at the suggestion.
“Two, my valet is going to bring you clothes.” Another finger down. “Three, you are going to take me to my possessions.”
Amused, she listed in and put her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand while her other arm lay on the thick wooden surface. She started to laugh, then hid her smile behind her hand. But it was too late.
Ruffles’s eyes darkened, and his face moved to just inches away from hers. Then, his hand covered the one she’d laid on the table, and his thumb began to glide in circles on the sensitive flesh.
His voice deepened, catching her off guard with a delightful purr. “Four, once I have my possessions, we can come back here and—” His eyes drifted over to the bed.
The amusement vanished as his implication washed over her. A small thrill rushed through her, but at the same time, she was annoyed. Just what kind of lass did he think she was?
Outrage took control, and she pulled back, folding her arms over her chest. “I am no strumpet.” Pushing her chair back, she rose and started to pace.
“Number one.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I would love to break my fast, and if ye are willing to provide nourishment, so be it.”
Glancing away, she looked at the wall as she brought her anger under control. “Number two, I can just leave in yer jacket, nae need to buy a new dress.” Although, the egotistical arse should buy her one for destroying her prized possession. She possibly could have fixed the rip in the shoulder, but the shredded mess at the hem was beyond her abilities.
When she turned, he was back in what she called the cat pose with his leg extended and looking smug again.
“Ye have a servant and can afford to stay in a place like this. Ye dinnae even need the box. Let me go now, and I’ll convince my brothers no’ to come back and murder ye.” Sticking her chin up in the air, she came to a halt and gave him the best determined face she had, just like she would have if one of the family had questioned her word.
But he wasn’t family and was not cowed by the threat of William’s anger or her own. His eyes sparkled, and one side of his mouth curved up in a lopsided grin.
“I dinnae see what amuses ye so.” She crossed her arms again, hoping to look like she was in control.
Moving as slow as a lion intent on showing he was the dominant predator, he pulled his leg in, stood, and strolled over to her. She tried to keep her breath steady, but it was no use. Her lungs felt shallow, and it was difficult to get a full breath as he came to a stop just in front of her. She looked up, attempting not to be intimidated by his height, but was taken aback when his hand caressed the bottom of her cheek.
“You, my dear, have no say in the matter. I have Nigel’s assurance that if you do not produce my belongings, he will lock you away and toss the key in a deep pit.”
It had been a hunch that she was afraid the authorities might be willing to take her in, but he knew better. The older watchman looked on her as if she were a daughter and would rather put him away than Flora. But if he could convince her otherwise, he had a bargaining tool, and judging from the way the color drained from her rosy defiant cheeks, his guess had been correct.
Doing his best to sound stern as he felt her tremble in his hand, he said, “Shall we go over it again?”
Flora’s pretty brown gaze darted away as moisture threatened in her eyes, but she stiffened and jerked her head defiantly. The girl had spirit, and he didn’t want to crush it, but she was not going to get away with taking from him what he’d fought for years to return to his name.
Once Fredrick purchased her some new garments, he could leave this room without fear of prison. She looked like a lass that had been thoroughly ravished with her dark hair cascading down the front of his favorite jacket. He’d never be able to wear the garment again without thinking of how she appeared in it. And he’d only given it to her so she could cover up and hopefully keep his mind from straying in that direction.
What had possessed him to tell her to come back with him after she returned his box?
Gazing at her rebellious face now, he knew the answer. She was wild and untamed. So unlike his sisters, or mother, or the endless twits in the ton that his mother insisted he consider for a wife. But he didn’t want to marry until he had to and then, only for the title. He’d seen what marriage had done to his parents, and he would avoid that path as long as possible.
On top of her full pouty lips and seductive chocolate eyes, the Scottish lass had a spirit and secrets too enticing to ignore. Yes, he’d gladly spend a few days in Aberdeen if the lass were amiable. He was about to dip his head to touch his lips to hers when she pulled free and gave him a coquettish glance over her shoulder as she sauntered away. His heated gaze followed her. She brushed up against his leg as she skirted around him to glide back into her chair at the table.
No English lady had ever snubbed him in a way that made him want to go back in for more punishment. The tightness in his chest and the beginnings of arousal urged him to try again, but he was a gentleman, at least that was what his mother insisted he be.
“My lord.” Muffled words came from the other side of the door and interrupted his thoughts.
“On my way.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the door key and looked over his shoulder to make certain she was still sitting. She was, so he unlocked the door and cracked it, peering out first to be certain Fredrick was alone. Satisfied, Isaac opened the door wide to admit him.
His valet and confidant strode toward the table with all the class of an upper-crust companion and gently placed the tray on the table without a word to the siren in his jacket.
“This is Flora. What is your surname Flora?” Based on the ring he now wore, he’d guess MacGregor, but he wanted to hear it from her.
She turned his way. “’Tis no’ important, Ruffles.”
“Pardon?”
“Ruffles. ’Twas what ye were wearing yesterday, and it stuck with me.”
His cheeks heated, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. Did she think him less of a man than the brutal men of the Highlands? If she challenged him, he’d prove he was no coward.
“Well then,” he clipped. “Fredrick, it is my complete misfortune to introduce you to Flora the Thief.”
Her mouth fell open, and the smug smirk vanished from her face.
“Come now, don’t tell me you are ashamed of your profession.”
The defiant eyes that had sparkled with humor only a short time ago now darted away and avoided him.
As Isaac studied her flushed cheeks, he berated himself for not realizing she wouldn’t be stealing if she didn’t have to. It appeared to be a pastime she didn’t relish.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Severing the uncomfortable silence, Fredrick said, “Tea, Miss?”
Straightening her shoulders, she turned to the older man. “Aye, please, but ye can call me Flora.”
Her slender fingers trembled as she grasped the handle of the cup and lifted it to her mouth. Isaac’s gaze was drawn to her lips as they blew over the surface and took a small sip. She closed her eyes. He couldn’t tell if she was savoring it or imagining herself anywhere but here.
“Indeed, madam.”
Her eyes opened, and she tilted her head to the side to inspect his companion as she avoided Isaac’s gaze.
“Thank you, Fredrick. Now, will you please see to the matter of some new attire for our guest?”
She huffed and drew both of their eyes to her.
“Is that what ye call it now, guest?” Her hurt had apparently been replaced with anger, but he was happy to see the spark back in her eyes.
Fredrick nodded, then winked at her before turning to him. “Yes, my lord, I’ll see to it that Miss Flora has some appropriate attire when the stores open.” Was that a smile on his companion’s face? The man had been in his service for years and very rarely displayed emotion in front of others.
When the door shut behind his man, not forgetting who he was with, Isaac locked the exit and remembered how he’d gotten in this mess to begin with. Walking back to his trunk and kneeling down, he unlocked it, then found what he was looking for, the necklace with the locket of his father’s picture.
Securing his belongings again, he rose and strolled back to the table. Flora popped a small piece of cheese into her mouth. Sitting, he unfastened the necklace, then slid the key to the trunk and the door down the cool metal chain. The keys clinked in the oval locket as he picked it up and put it around his neck.
She watched his movements, and for a brief second, the thought crossed his mind that he shouldn’t have done it in front of her. He’d like to try to catch her reaching into his pockets--maybe if she were that close to him, he’d have an excuse to wrap his arms around her and see if her curves were as smooth as he imagined.
Turning to safer subjects, he took the second plate and asked, “So, how does one become a thief?”