Page 35 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“I would not rely upon Bradley to solve the taking of sweets from a chocolate shop, let alone trust him to resolve a case where your safety is at stake.”
Folding her arms before her, she hiked her chin. At that angle, the light from the streetlamp cast a glow over her features, in particular the luscious little dimple on her left cheek.
“The detective believes there is no further threat. It does seem the most reasonable conclusion.”
“It is also the most convenient. Theesteemed inspectorarrived at his deduction in less time than it takes for paint to dry. I have little reason to have faith in his instincts.”
God knew the detective had exerted neither his brain nor his brawn in searching for the bastard who’d left his kind-eyed young cousin lying dead in a dismal alley.
“My, I had not taken you for a cynic.” The lightness in her voice was not echoed by her eyes.
“It’s too soon to know if Bradley has it right this time.”
“This time?” Her brows rose. “You have a previous acquaintance with the inspector?”
“Not an acquaintance.” Finn measured his words. “Bradley was the lead detective on a case of personal interest to me.”
Her expression softened with compassion. “Your cousin?”
Finn nodded, steadying himself against the bitter memories. “Colleen’s murder was never solved.”
Macie’s mouth thinned. Sadness filled her warm green eyes as she placed her hand gently upon his. “I was heartbroken to learn of her death.”
“We all were. If I had been on my guard, I might’ve intervened,” Finn said. “Before it was too late.”
“Jon told me what happened.” She softly squeezed his hand. “It was not your fault.” Her gentle touch and words warmed his heart.
“That may be true. But I will carry regret in my heart to my dying day. In any case, I have no faith in the detective’s abilities. Nor in his judgment.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me,” she said, her tone resolute. “It’s quite likely the intruder was himself a victim. It is not far-fetched to believe he was attacked by street criminals.”
“In that posh part of London?”
“It is entirely possible,” Macie went on, seeming to reassure herself. “When the old man spoke to me, he seemed quite desperate.”
“Need I point out that no one knows the man’s identity? We cannot be certain he was alone in the house before ye came upon him.”
Her chin hiked a fraction higher. “You will not frighten me into living like a caged bird, Mr. Caldwell.”
He smiled despite himself. “Please, for the love of Zeus, stop calling me Mr. Caldwell. I’ve known ye since ye were a girl in braids and ribbons.”
“And we’re all grown up now, aren’t we,Mr. Caldwell?” She put deliberate emphasis on his name.
“We most definitely are,Miss Mason.” Two could play her game. “As a man who honors his word, I intend to see that ye remain in one piece until yer brother returns. After Jon steps off the train, ye will once again be his—”
“Problem.” She completed his sentence, her eyes sparkling like the most precious of emeralds. Damnation, when she looked at him like that—so blasted beautiful, so tempting and yet so very off-limits—his more primal instincts reared their head.
A knowing little half-smile played on her mouth. Did the minx know precisely the effect she’d had on him?
Not that it mattered. He had meant every word he’d said to her when she’d proposed her bold scheme to send the fortune hunters in search of other prey. He would watch over her. He would protect her, and he would do his damnedest to chase off the vultures. But if she decided to tear her good name to shreds with a foolish act that could not be undone, he would not be a party to it.
Even if the mere thought of kissing her heated his blood. Even if the temptation to close the curtain, draw her into hisarms, and explore her sweetly curved body urged him to cast aside all reason.
Even if he no longer gave a bloody damn about her brother’s blasted devil’s bargain.
“Tell me, Phineas Caldwell, whyareyou here?” Her voice had gone low and velvety, though her eyes had cooled.
“Ye’ve forgotten so soon?” he said, meeting her questioning gaze.
