Page 1 of Tempting the Highland Spy
Chapter One
Edinburgh
April 1893
Desire is a powerful weapon, Gracie. Never let a man turn the tables on you…
Splaying open her fan to conceal her features, Grace Winters silently repeated her aunt’s words as she peered over the ivory lace. Why in heaven’s name was the Highlander here? She’d considered many obstacles that might upend the scheme that had lured her back to Scotland.
But she had not counted onhim.
As she edged toward the heavy damask curtains at the periphery of the ballroom, her gaze trailed Harrison MacMasters’s path. With long, confident strides, he navigated the crush of people who’d gathered to celebrate an American heiress’s wedding to an honest-to-goodness baron. While greeting the groom’s perfectly poised mother, he’d offered a measured smile, but no number of civil pleasantries could conceal the taut set of Harrison’s jaw. He was neither relaxed, nor at ease. Whatever his reason for attending this celebration, he had not come to honor a simple social obligation.
Even before she’d caught sight of him, she’d detected Harrison’s presence on some elemental level, one she could not hope to explain. Her primal awareness defied both reason and her determination to ignore the slight acceleration of her pulse that came into play every time he drew near. She resisted the urge to move closer, to openly drink in his chiseled features and lean, muscular body.
How well she remembered the feel of his touch against her skin. The scent of him. The taste of his kiss.
Standing in the shadows, Grace observed Harrison’s movements. A current of electric tension coursed through her veins. Her fingertips lightly skimmed the tatted fabric of her fan as she drew in a calming breath. The fragrance of lilies in bloom filled her senses. The dowager baroness had spared no expense for the wedding ball—of course, now that her son had spoken his vows and restored the family fortune in the process, money was no object.
Her fingers tightened around the fan. If only she could shake the unease that gripped her. She could not allow her emotions to get the better of her.
Unlike Aunt Thelma, she’d never enjoyed this dubiouswork.The old woman enjoyed the plotting, working out every detail of a plan, creating disguises that garnered trust. After her targets let down their guard, the rest was child’s play. Or so Aunt Thelma insisted. For Grace, it was anything but easy.
After all these years, her conscience should not trouble her. Time after time, she’d executed her aunt’s schemes without a hitch. She had a job to do. Nothing more. It wasn’t personal. No one would be hurt.
But tonight, something was different.
Something was wrong.
Apprehension crept over her like cold fingertips gliding over her nape. Blast it, she was letting her nerves whittle away at her confidence. She’d undertaken far more perilous exploits in the past. In the Highlands, her aunt’s bold conniving had nearly brought them to the brink of disaster. She’d been thankful to get away undetected. She wondered if she really did have a guardian angel watching over her. She bit back a little smile at the thought. After years of Thelma’s schemes, Grace did not doubt her celestial benefactor was thoroughly exhausted.
Perhapsthatexplained what had happened in New York.
Or perhaps, they’d simply become too confident for their own good.
But that fiasco was over and done. By the stroke of midnight, her role in this plan would be complete. Her debt would be paid. The time of taking risks was nearly over.
The steamer bound for America was scheduled to depart soon after dawn.
Shewouldbe on that vessel.
Soon, she would be home. She could breathe easy then.
And she’d never have to do another job.
Grace would never have to worry about her sister’s future. Or her own.
But first, she had to steer clear of Harrison MacMasters. Darkening her hair had proven a wise move. He wasn’t likely to spot her in the crowd. If she kept out of his sight, she could quietly slip away to complete her task.
She slid Aunt Thelma a sidelong glance. Flirting outrageously with a silver-haired European count whose elegant tailoring emphasized his broad shoulders and lean physique, her aunt was in fine form. The gentleman basked in the attention the matron was only too happy to provide. Pity the noble might soon find himself missing the ruby stickpin in his cravat.
In the middle of a fawning laugh, Aunt Thelma met her gaze. Her beaming smile faded as she excused herself and wove her way to Grace. Her mouth pulled taut.
“What are you thinking, Gracie? You should be mingling…you never know who will say something that will be of use later. Champagne has a way of loosening lips.”
“There’s not going to be alater.”
“Come now, dear. You don’t mean that.”
