Page 88 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
Until he’d fallen for Belle.
“It’s quite impressive,” Logan said, taking a good look at the ring. “A part of yer family legacy.”
“That was my grandmother’s intention.”
“Ye’re edgy as a rabbit looking into the eyes of a hound,” Logan observed with a chuckle. “Having doubts?”
Jon mulled the question for a long moment. “Not about Belle.” He ran his fingertip over the ring, envisioning it on her slender finger. “Not about this.”
“Then what is it?”
“I cannot put my finger on it, but there’s something about Northcutt,” he said. “Something about the man doesn’t sit well with me.”
“He’s not a talkative sort. But if the Dragon referred him, ye can be confident he’s up to the job.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Jon considered his words. “He answered every question we posed with knowledge born of hard experience. His credentials are impeccable. By all reasonable measures, I should have full confidence in the man.”
And yet, something gnawed at him. Something logic couldn’t explain away.
I was not aware there was a young child in residence.
Why in blazes had Northcutt seemed taken aback by Carrie’s presence? Surely Mrs. Johnstone had briefed him on the specifics of the assignment, including the members of Jon’s household.
I will complete the job I’ve been sent to do.
A sudden chill coursed down his spine. Something was off. Something about Henry Northcutt didn’t fit.
The sound of hurried footfalls along the corridor reached his ears. “Stop,” his secretary called, her tone clearly agitated. “You cannot simply barge in—”
Mrs. Johnstone strode into his office. “I was hoping to find ye here,” she said as Miss Smithson bustled up behind her.
“Mr. Mason, I tried to tell her you were not available,” the secretary explained.
“Thank you,” he said. “But she is welcome here.”
“Very well.” Miss Smithson turned on her heel and made her way down the hallway.
“There has been a most unfortunate development,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “A true crimp in the plan.”
“What are ye saying?” Logan said, rising to greet his aunt.
“As ye know, I met with the security agent yesterday evening. Preparations were in place for him to begin the assignment today,” she said. “But there has been an incident.”
Jon saw the lines of stress on her face. Heard the strained notes of her voice. What in blazes was going on?
“Last night, sometime after our meeting, Mr. Northcutt suffered an attack in his residence,” Mrs. Johnstone went on. “The physicians believe he will recover. But—”
“Bloody hell,” Logan swore under his breath.
An invisible fist plowed into his gut. By hellfire, why had he trusted the blighter to watch over Belle?
Jon bolted for the door. He had to get to Belle. He had to protect her.
Desperation coursed through his veins. In that moment, he knew the truth.
Not a bloody thing in the world matters. Only Belle.
*
