Page 48 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess
He caught her midair, his arms slamming around her waist just in time to break the fall.
The impact rattled them both, her body colliding into his chest, and for a second, everything froze.
Catriona gasped, “Och!”
Her warmth, her softness, pressed into him with an intensity that was almost suffocating. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, and his grip on her tightened, not out of caution, but sheer, uncontrollable need.
He stared down at her, their faces inches apart. Her wide eyes met his, and for a moment, it was as if the entire world had narrowed to just the two of them, suspended in that one charged instant.
He could feel her breath on his skin, her body pressed into his so intimately, and it took all his effort not to react more strongly.
“Are you…?” he started, the words too thick, too rough in his throat.
He had meant to ask if she was all right, but the question sounded useless with the way his voice had dropped—like he was asking for something else entirely.
She opened her mouth as though to respond, but the words stalled in her throat, and her gaze flickered to his lips, just for a moment.
Damn it.
He could feel his control slipping, the magnetism between them undeniable, and before he could stop himself, he found himself leaning just a fraction closer, drawn to the pulse at her throat.
“Cat!” Lydia gasped as she got to her feet.
Then, just as quickly, he jerked back, his mind screaming at him to rein it in, especially in front of Lydia.
“Try exploring and livingwithoutfalling out of trees from now on,” Richard growled as he placed Catriona on her feet and stormed out of sight.
Still, the warmth of her body lingered all over him, and he cursed under his breath.
Why did she always shatter the control he’d fought so hard to maintain?
Chapter Sixteen
“Tha fios aig an t-sùil air an nead.” The eye knows the nest.
“The Bow Street Runners closed the case,” Lord Tillworth said as he sipped his wine. “The robbers confessed. They were hanged. I am not sure what you are looking for me to do for you. I am sorry to be so plain, but I think you deserve honesty, Your Grace.”
Lord Tillworth had been waiting for him in the dimly lit, private room at White’s. Its air was thick with the familiar scent of cigars and old money—and with secrets, if only in Richard’s mind.
Richard steepled his fingers, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he tried to read the politician. He knew him only by reputation.
“I believe there is more to this than meets the eye,” Richard said as he leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. “There is a detail, a crucial detail, that just doesn’t fit. My brother and my sister-in-law were carrying a significant number of valuables. Yet, the robbers took almost nothing. Odd, wouldn’t you say?”
Tillworth listened intently, his shrewd eyes assessing Richard’s words and reading his face. Everyone in London knew that Richard’s family had considerable influence, and that Richard’s determination was not to be dismissed lightly, nor was his acumen for details.
“You raise an interesting point,” Tillworth conceded. “I recall the case, not all the finer points. But the confessions were?—”
“Confessions can be bought,” Richard cut in, voice like a blade. “Or beaten out of men who would say anything to escape the noose.”
Tillworth sighed. “The Bow Street Runners are stretched thin, and resources are limited. We can’t just be going after every little?—”
“Iwillprovide the resources,” Richard said, every word clipped with authority. “Discreetly or otherwise. Name the price. The investigation will reopen.”
Tillworth considered, tapping a finger against the rim of his glass. Finally, he gave a reluctant nod.. “You are a good brother, Your Grace. Persistent, but good.”
Richard felt a tightness prickle his chest at the compliment.
“Very well,” Tillworth agreed. “I will forward your concerns to the Runners, and they will review the evidence again at my request. But I promise you nothing more than that.”
