Page 82 of Tempting the Highland Spy
“I would appreciate a bit of privacy,” she said pointedly. Since Mrs. Carmichael’s appearance at the door, a barrier had fallen between them far stouter than the flimsy cloth screen.
“I’d say it’s a bit late for that, Grace.”
“Nonsense.” The spirit returned to her voice. She draped her nightgown over the barrier. Her silhouetted curves moved behind the screen. “I always say, a little mystery is a good thing.”
Respecting her wishes, he turned away from the screen. “Very well. Your wish is my command.”
“If only that were true,” she said lightly.
What in blazes does she mean by that?
He stretched out his legs. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the tiny blue flowers on her flannelette nightdress. “You said that’s your only nightgown. I assume you’ve got more at home, in America.”
“No. Only this one,” she said over the screen.
“You don’t have another?”
“I only needed one. It’s rather simple.”
“It’s a reasonable question, Grace. Wouldn’t a woman require more than one nightdress?”
“Why? I’ve no funds for frivolous purchases. Besides, it’s not as if anyone sees me in it…” She seemed to realize the irony of her words and corrected herself. “Well, not usually, of course.” Grace pulled in a breath. “You see, my dear Harry, you’re the only man who’s had occasion to see me dressed for bed.”
Her confession slammed into him like a pugilist’s fist. The words only confirmed what he’d suspected since the beginning, yet, hearing it from her lips was somehow quite special. She had faith in him. Her trust seemed a gift. And a responsibility.
Still, he needed to understand her. Questions played in his thoughts. A smarter man might have kept them to himself. But the events of the last several days had demonstrated he’d lost his good sense. Had her aunt squandered their ill-gotten gains? Would she return to a life of poverty if she regained her freedom to travel home?
“What happened to your money, Grace?”
“I suppose I spent it on all those teas with the Queen.” Her tone was flippant, but he detected the note of concern she could not disguise.
He plowed a hand through his hair, processing his thoughts. “The Caversham Emeralds alone would’ve fetched a considerable sum. I’d think that quite enough to provide for a new nightdress.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” Her voice had gone low, wrought with tension.
“But I do… Grace, what has your aunt done with all that money?”
She stepped out from behind the screen. An elegant yet modest dress in a blue that matched the color of the Highland sky draped her curves.
“She’s done nothing untoward with it. But I cannot see that it’s your concern, in any case.”
“Itismy concern.”
Her reddish-gold curls shimmied as she shook her head. “It is not pertinent to this situation. Besides, you know full well the nature of mycompensationfor this mission.”
“The thing of it is, as hard as I try, I can’t stop wanting to puzzle you out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” Emotion colored her calmly spoken words. “I am a thief, with a thief’s motives—in this case, a thief who is willing to reform in exchange for her freedom. There’s no mystery there.”
“You’re wrong. There’s more to this story than your ability to pick a lock and pilfer jewels.”
“And what would make you think that?”
“I can see it in your eyes. I know you’re protecting your aunt. But there’s something else. Or someone else. I feel it in my gut.”
Her throat constricted, and she appeared to gulp a breath. “There’s alwayssomething else.But none of that matters now.”
He reached out, drawing a fingertip over the curve of her face. “How did you end up working side by side with Thelma McTavish?”
