Page 55 of Tempting the Highland Spy
“I am so looking forward to that day,” Belle said. “Donnal and I first met after one of his performances. I’d visited the theater with my cousin, despite some reluctance on my part. I’ve never cultivated much appreciation for Shakespearean plays. But I found this one particularly captivating.”
“I can only imagine. It’s all so very romantic,” Grace said, tucking her drawing pad into her reticule before Harrison caught sight of her creation. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw Dr. MacMasters. He was a guest at a dear friend’s wedding.”
“Love at first sight?” Belle said, sounding hopeful.
Grace shook her head. “Good heavens, no,” she said with a little chuckle. “Truth be told, I thought he was a bit of a cold fish.”
Belle’s mouth formed a shocked little circle as Raibert’s mouth crooked into a grin.
For his part, Harrison’s brows shot up, and he cocked his head, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Cold fish, is it? Tell me, darling—was that before or after I carried you back to the manor house when you were knocked to the ground by another bridesmaid?”
Infuriating man. He would have to bring up that incident at Houghton Manor. Lady Evelyn had saved her life that day, but to his credit, Harrison had been quite a gentleman in the aftermath of the incident.
“Before,” she replied. “You did seem to warm up…just a bit…after you held me in your arms.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed coolly. “Although as I recall, it was a very warm day, and it was a long walk back to the house. The response you detected was most likely the effect of exertion.”
“What I’m talking about had nothing to do with exertion,” she countered, adding a layer of playfulness as she spoke the truth. “You and I both know that.”
A smile played on his lips. Was it genuine, or part of his disguise? “I suppose wedoknow the truth, don’t we?”
Was it her imagination, or had his voice gone lower? Huskier? Had the memory of that day moved him?
“All this talk of weddings has sparked an idea.” Belle’s eyes brightened with excitement. “Grace, dear, this might seem rather impulsive, but I think it’s brilliant. Will you join my wedding party? I’d so love to have you and Dr. MacMasters there. It would be delightful to have another American near my side when I speak my vows.”
The invitation had come even more quickly than Grace had expected. Careful to conceal the slight rush of success surging through her, she met Belle’s proposition with a look of contemplation. It wouldn’t do to appear too eager.
“We had planned to be on our way to my husband’s family estate within the week, but I would love to see you speak your vows. What do you say, sweetheart—one more wedding before the season is over?”
“That might require us to extend our trip.” Harrison thinned his mouth, nearly too convincing in his feigned reluctance. “Of course, it can be arranged.”
Raibert shot Harrison a glance. “I’d welcome the presence of another Scotsman at the place while the women do whatever it is that women do to prepare for these momentous occasions. There’s only so much talk of flowers and lace that I can endure.”
“I’d be ever thankful if Grace was a member of my wedding party.” Belle’s gracious smile might’ve won over Ebenezer Scrooge himself. “Please, say you’ll be our guests.”
Grace conjured her sweetest tone. “Dear, I know this is rather sudden, but it would mean a great deal to me.”
Putting on a bit of a scowl for effect, Harrison met her entreaty with a look of husbandly resignation. “Very well, darling.How could I ever refuse you?”
Belle clasped her hands together in excitement. “Wonderful! I’ll see to the arrangements. We’ll have a grand time. I guarantee it!”
Raibert cleared his throat with a theatrical flare. Grace pulled in a breath, thankful for the interruption.
“What perfect timing. We’ve settled that matter, and now, I do believe they are preparing to unveil the Rembrandt. Shall we make our way to the gallery?”
“An excellent suggestion,” Harrison agreed, looking as relieved as she was that their dialogue had been halted. He edged closer, perfectly proper, and yet, possessive in a way that appealed to her more than was reasonable. Reaching out, he clasped her hand, ever the gentleman.
“I’ve so looked forward to this night,” Belle said.
“As have I,” Grace agreed.
“Anticipation does have a way of making everything sweeter.” Harrison spoke in a low, slightly rough-edged voice, almost as if the words were meant for her ears alone. The heat of his skin passed through the thin barrier of her gloves, igniting a fresh awareness of the man. Was he playing the part of the amorous newly wedded husband to perfection, or was she simply making too much of it?
Grace shot him a sidelong glance, her mouth curving into what she hoped was an adoring smile. Not that she had to put much effort into that acting feat. Despite his determination to stick to his duty as an agent of the Crown—never letting himself forget she was, in fact, a criminal, and not merely a woman who’d once lain sated and sleepy in his arms—he could not fully extinguish the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. A dart of pain pricked at her heart. What might have been if she’d encountered this man under other circumstances? If she had not behaved so recklessly that terrible day so very long ago—if she had not been drawn into Aunt Thelma’s methods for keeping a roof over their heads and food in their bellies—would things have been quite different if they’d chanced to meet?
Pulling her wandering thoughts back to her task, Grace shifted her attention to Belle and her fiancé. “I’ve always been impressed with Rembrandt’s use of color to set a mood,” she said.
“Indeed,” Belle said. “The artist’s brilliance is beyond compare.”
Harrison flashed Grace a deadpan look. “As with all things, I do hope the experience proves to be worth the wait.”
