Page 58 of The Viscount's Seduction
“How do you plan to lure your man out of wherever he is hiding?”
“We’ve not decided,” Kincaid said. “We shall, however, include you in our planning. You must know that. You must tell your lady. I fear she is a determined sort.”
Shaldon cleared his throat.
“No,” Kincaid said. “He must know. The O’Brian boys—”
“Who?” Even as he said it he remembered—the Smith brothers.
Shaldon eyed Kincaid, who lifted a shoulder and spoke. “The two men with her at the docks. Yes, they worked for me upon occasion. Didn’t know your father was involved. They knew her from her home, yes, they did. Yet when we asked them, they agreed to help. Had a poaching charge against them, they did, yet they seemed good sorts.”
A memory of her on the docks arose.
“And the group that attacked her? Were they with Donegal?”
“We don’t know,” Shaldon said. “The docks are filled with riffraff.”
“Find a female operative, one of your women with yellow hair, to play Sirena’s role.”
Shaldon pursed his lips. “We’ll consider it. It may not work, however. We believe Donegal may have seen her already, if not recently then in the past.”
“He’s been a decade away, maybe longer.”
“True. Or possibly true.” His father rose and walked toward him. “Now, take your bride home, son. Kincaid will put a guard around your townhouse.” Shaldon took his hand and shook it heartily. “She’s a worthy wife. No harm shall touch her.”
Kincaid gripped his hand also and then helped the old lord out.
In the years since his return, Shaldon had been turning the world topsy-turvy. And he’d managed to combine matchmaking with his spying business.
All well and good, the sooner they got through the Donegal matter, the sooner Shaldon would move on to Charley.
Donegal. Sirena had surely recognized that name. Neither she nor the O’Brians had shared the name of the man they were seeking. His new wife had kept that secret. He’d have to be on his toes with her also.
He’d have to convince her to share all her secrets, and the only way he knew how to do that was to seduce her until she was witless.
The momentthe door of the coach clicked shut, Sirena was pulled onto Bakeley’s lap. His big hand pressed her head to his broad shoulder, and then...nothing.
Theclackity-clackof the wheels and theclip-cloppingof horse’s hooves, all around the carriage actually—strange that—was all she heard.
“Who’s with us?” she asked.
“We are being guarded.”
“By whom?”
He loosed a hand from her back and waved it. “Kincaid. His men.”
“Are we in danger then? And from whom?” She tried to sit up but he clasped her as though she were a piece of Chinese porcelain. “And what about Donegal?”
“Was it Donegal you went to look for yesterday?”
She tried hard not to freeze. Holding her this tightly, he would notice. Yet a little shiver still went through her.
“Please do not lie, my love.”
His love. And if she believedthatthere was a tree with a leprechaun she could sell him. Still he was right that she should not out and out lie. Close to the truth was always better. In this case, she might as well say it all.
“Thatwasthe name the boys gave me.”
