Page 29 of Tempting the Highland Spy
If only the mere prospect of being within touching distance of the man did not speed her pulse, ever so slightly.
If only she had not seen the warmth in his forest-green eyes during those days and nights before he’d known the truth. Now, he’d wrapped the notion of duty around himself like a coat of armor.
It would be so much easier if she did not know the man behind the shields he’d erected.
And now…they had a job to do. Nothing more.
An image of Harrison slipped into her thoughts, a teasing smile dancing on his full mouth—defying her resolve to protect herself from her own traitorous yearning.
A sigh escaped her. Somewhere, her guardian angel was reaching for another sip of sherry. Harrison wanted little part of Jones’s scheme. He’d made that very clear. If he had his way, he’d see her safe from the American spy’s manipulations. Yet, he’d taken on the mission.
Had he gone along with the scheme to ensure he’d have the opportunity to bring her to justice in the Highlands after the mission was done?
She banished the troubling thoughts. There was no sense in contemplating the future. The doubts might well drive her mad.
Prison was not an option. She simply could not consider the possibility, especially not in some iron-barred cell an ocean away from her sister. She would do whatever was necessary to avoid that fate. She had to have faith that Jones’s plan would succeed.
She had to have faith in herself.
Reaching for her hairbrush, she stroked the boar bristles through the long strands. She’d have to remove the dull brown dye before they arrived in Stirling. She had to match the image of Grace Winterborne embedded in Belle Fairchild’s memory.
Her eyes lit on a small, dark mark on her throat, a bruise left behind by O’Hanlon’s brutal hold. That had been a close call. Too close. Of course, she would have escaped him, even if Harrison had not come to her rescue like some knight of old. She had to tell herself that if she was going to make it through this next task.
Still, he’d shown true courage. Pity she found his gallant air—and the man himself—all too appealing.
But he had his own motives—reasons that had nothing to do with chivalry. After all, how could he bring her to justice after O’Hanlon snuffed the life out of her? Harrison had been blunt about why he’d attended the ball. He hadn’t even tried to disguise the truth.
Manipulating the bristles through a vexing tangle, she frowned as question after question flooded her thoughts. How long had Harrison known about her charade? When they’d spent the night together, tangled in each other’s arms, had he already known she was a thief?
She glanced away from the image in the mirror. She could not bear to look at herself. If only her desire for Harrison MacMasters had been a lie. She’d been drawn to him, even when a nagging voice within her had warned she was taking chances she could not afford.
The truth was bitter, but it was better to face it. If Harrison MacMasters had his way, she would be sitting in some dank jail cell, staring at the cracks in the walls, awaiting what he considered justice for the crimes she’d committed—jobs that had kept food in their bellies, a roof over their heads, and her sister in school.
In truth, Harrison had no ground to condemn her. He’d worn his own mask, deceiving her until she’d believed his feelings for her were real. Even now, she yearned for the heady feeling that had coursed through her when he kissed her—a tender hunger unlike any she’d known before or since.
Dash it all, she’d no time for such musings. She’d let down her guard. She would not make that mistake again.
She had to get through this mission.
The cost of failure was far too high.
Her liaison with Harrison MacMasters would soon be nothing more than a bittersweet memory. She needed to focus her thoughts on the job at hand.
Soon, she would transform herself into the dearest long-lost friend Belle Fairchild had ever had.
