Page 27 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
His mouth spread into a grin. “Not a damnable thing. But this is.”
He kissed her. A mere sweep of his lips against hers. Light as a soft spring breeze. Gentle. Yet infused with hunger. His tongue parted the seam of her lips. Exploring slowly. Tenderly. Setting her senses afire. One arm snaked around her back, pressing her to the rough-hewn length of his body.
His heat drew her in. Ah, she could get lost in that heady fever. The world disappeared around them. She closed her eyes. Savoring his touch. Drinking in the delicious warmth. Relishing every beat of his heart against hers.
And then, he released her. The cocky gleam in his eyes sobered her like a bucket of chilled ale dumped over her head. “Now, lass, that is what I’d do.”
“Is that so?” She prayed her voice wasn’t trembling with the aftershocks of his caress. “Quite effective, I must say.”
“High praise.” He roped her to his body with one powerful arm. “Verrae high praise, indeed. But that doesn’t change a bluidy thing. I need the truth.”
She pulled in a long breath, as if that might calm her stampeding pulse. “I have not lied to you.”
“If ye think to ransom Benedict, it is too late for that.” His tone had gone low and raw, as if it pained him to deliver a difficult truth.
“As I have told you, I knew him as Richard Abbott. He was an art dealer with clients throughout Europe.”
“He was a thief. His greed made him take too many risks. There’s reason to believe one of his deals made him a target.”
MacMasters’s gruff words swirled around her like a vortex threatening to pull her under. How could it be that her sister’s loving husband had fooled them all?
“This man named Benedict whom you speak of…he sounds like a different man, as if Richard had a twin with a dark, hidden nature. Surely he could not have been living two different lives.” Bitterness welled in her throat. “But you have correctly deduced one key truth. The contents of this satchel are indeed a ransom, but I haven’t come after Mr. Abbott.”
“Then why…why put yerself in danger?”
She eyed him beneath her lashes. So many questions. It was her turn now. “How do you know about Mr. Abbott? Why do you harbor such interest in him?”
His shoulders twitched in a shrug. “Ye might say I’m also a collector.”
“Is that so? You were acquainted with him?”
“We crossed paths.” MacMasters turned away. Moving to the window, he peeled back the curtain a sliver.
“You know the man’s character…the boldness in his dealings?”
“That’s not the word I’d use to describe his enterprises. He made a lot of enemies.”
“You considered him an adversary?”
“No.” MacMasters turned to her. “I doubt the bastard even knew I existed.”
Johanna studied him. If he was lying, his face didn’t reflect it. “How do you know of him?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does. At least to me.”
MacMasters shrugged. “The swindler was known from Dublin to Paris.”
Swindler? The word rang in her ears. Alarm chilled her blood, and she dug her nails into her palm.
“Surely you are mistaken. Mr. Abbott was a businessman.”
A bark of laughter rumbled from MacMasters. “That’s bluidy rich. The bastard had ye fooled, didn’t he?”
His tone prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. His words unnerved her. Still, she’d not let on. “I assure you Mr. Abbott had no need to fool anyone.”
“Nae, lass, he had better reason than most. The man was a thief. A scavenger who went after what he wanted without a care for others.”
