Page 50 of Tempting the Highland Spy
“Why are you here?” she asked, turning to face him. Seated across from her, he’d taken pains to keep a proper distance. “On this infernal task.With me.”
He shot her a little scowl. “Are you questioning my motives?”
“Not at all. It’s simply that I have no idea what your reasons might be for taking on this mission. What’s in it for you?”
“So far, nothing but a pain in the neck from dealing with Mrs. Carmichael.” He eased his expression into something almost pleasant. “She likes you. That’s a rare thing.”
“She’s only doing her job.”
“The old gal is very protective of you. Somehow, you’ve charmed her.”
“I have no idea how I’ve accomplished that feat. I’ve merely been myself.”
Harrison met her eyes. “Perhaps that’s the secret.”
“If you believe a bit of flattery will prompt me to forget my question and change the subject, you’re mistaken.”
“Damn the luck,” he said with a low laugh. “I suspected as much.”
“Why did you come along?” she asked again. “I deserve to know that.”
“Grace, I have my duty in life. To the Guild. To Scotland. And to my own sense of honor.”
“Goodness, you sound like a prince heading off to slay a dragon.” She bit back a smile. “How does this mission fit in with your personal code of honor?”
“It’s simple, really. I believe the task you’ve been sent to accomplish is more dangerous than either you or Jones believe.”
“But why…why is that your concern?”
His mouth thinned, and he held her gaze. “I cannot sit back while a woman like you ventures into a den of jackals. The very idea goes against my grain.”
“So you’re here as a matter of principle. Nothing more?”
“Ah, there’s more. Not that I am at liberty to disclose.” His expression was infuriatingly unreadable. Was the ability to conceal his emotions a trait he’d been born with? Or a skill he’d cultivated?
“I suspected as much,” she said.
“Now, to change the subject,” he said. “I meant what I said earlier. That gown is an excellent choice.”
“I chose a rather conservative style. After all, I would not want to outshine Miss Fairchild.”
Harrison’s jaw hardened, and a muscle in his cheek pulled taut, as if he’d wished to say something but held back the thought. He met her eyes. “Believe me, Grace, you could wear widow’s weeds and you’d still outshine every woman in that room.”
“More flattery,” she said softly.
He slowly shook his head. “Only the truth, Miss Winters.”
So, she was Miss Winters again. My, the man was confounding.
“Well, then, thank you.” She folded her hands in her lap, feeling suddenly at a loss for words. “This charade might have been easier with Jones, though.”
“Easier?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “How so?”
“We cannot erase our, shall we say, shared past—it’s created an invisible wall between us. I’m concerned others will sense the distance.”
“We shared one night, Grace. Not a courtship.” He shifted his gaze to look out at the city beyond the carriage window. “There is no divide.”
“Still, it worries me. If Belle perceives the deception…”
