Page 60 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
Jon knew his friend had kept his description deliberately vague. Logan MacLain was one of the three people on the planet—including his sister and Finn—he’d allowed to see how bloody torn he’d been about leaving Belle behind.
“That would be the one. She was on the run,” he said. “From a man.”
“A cutpurse after her bag?”
“Nothing so simple as that,” Jon said. “The man pursuing her was not a stranger.”
“I think I’m getting the picture,” Logan said. “She is an heiress, is she not?”
“Her father is one of the richest men in all of New York, if that gives you an idea.”
Logan nodded his understanding. “What is the bastard after? A payoff?”
“It’s worse than that,” Jon said. “The cur has men actively searching for her. I suspect he intends to coerce her into speaking her vows with him.”
“Definitely a more lucrative option for a scoundrel,” Logan observed. “So, who is the rotter?”
“A Scottish lord by the name of Kentsworth.”
Logan took a hearty drink. “Kentsworth, ye say.”
“Gideon Kentsworth,” Jon said. “When she speaks of him, Belle looks as if the devil himself was on her heels. Just as she did that first night.”
A look of bitter recognition filled Logan’s eyes. Bollocks, what did he know?
“Like the devil was on her heels, eh?” Logan drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair in a steady rhythm. “If she was tangled up with that rotter, the lass has gotten herself into a true fix. She has good reason to be frightened.”
“At the moment, she is in my home. Under my protection.”
Logan steepled his fingers, frowning as he often did when he thought through a problem. “That may not be enough,” he saidfinally. “Obviously, ye cannot be with the lass every hour of the day.”
“True.” Jon considered his words. “I’d thought to hire on private security, but that presents its own risks. The more people who know she’s at the house, the greater the chance word will make it to the jackal.”
Logan nodded his agreement. “I have a suggestion, but ye will not like it.”
“If you’re thinking about Mrs. Johnstone, I’ve already pursued that option. The woman is out of the country.”
“You’re in luck, Jon.” He smiled. “The Dragon has returned to London.”
Chapter Seventeen
Belle’s pleasant morningtransformed into a decidedly eventful afternoon after the door chimes announced Ellie Blake’s arrival at teatime. And this time, Ellie was not alone.
Peering out to verify the identity of the callers, Mrs. Gilroy spoke under her breath. “Well, well... the Dragon.”
Belle hesitated for a moment.Dragon.Surely, she’d misunderstood.How very odd.
“Has Miss Blake arrived?” she asked finally.
“Yes,” Mrs. Gilroy said. “It would appear Mr. Mason has arranged yer security. Miss Blake has brought the Dragon.”
Security?Dragon?Belle silently repeated the words.
Appearing to read the confusion on Belle’s features, Mrs. Gilroy’s mouth pulled into a faint smile. “You’ll understand soon enough, lass.”
When she opened the door, Ellie strolled in, carrying a satchel in a vibrant black and red plaid. A strikingly pretty woman whose thick, dark hair was streaked with silver and topped with a tasteful black hat followed close behind. Tall for a woman, she wore a precisely tailored herringbone tweed walking suit in a rich blend of purple, cream, and black and charcoal gray gloves. In her left hand, she carried a bright yellow parasol, the only item in her ensemble which didn’t quite fit the rest.
This lovely woman with refined tastes could not possibly be the Dragon. Could she?
