Falling for the Highland Rogue. Ann Lethbridge
we can do business.’
O’Banyon looked at the glass in his hand. ‘McKenzie has nothing to match what I have tasted from Dunross.’
But that didn’t mean he would buy it if the price wasna right. Ian had warned him to tread carefully. To turn the man up sweet. He reined in his anger and forced himself to think.
‘If Mrs West is so keen to see the King, I can drive you both out to Leith the day after tomorrow to see his official welcome.’ At least he hoped he could. Surely Sanford could get him a pass.
The smile he had thought lovely before became utterly enchanting. And yet, it seemed a little too practised. She turned from him to O’Banyon. ‘Can we, Jack?’
Jack grimaced. ‘All you’ll see is a fat old man waving, but if it pleases you to go, then we will do so.’ He got to his feet and offered his hand to Logan. ‘I will look forward to seeing you in the morning with the documents, then, Gilvry. Let us hope we can conclude our business satisfactorily in a few days.’
‘I am sure we can.’
He took Mrs West’s hand in his and was once more aware of the feel of her warmth and the fine bones of that elegant hand in his palm and the shadows deep in her eyes. Shadows he wanted to pierce. ‘I will come for you and Mr O’Banyon at nine in the morning on Tuesday, Mrs West, if that will suit you?’
‘Jack and I will be ready,’ she said, giving him a sultry smile that sent heat careening straight to his groin.
An effect she’d intended. The knowledge showed in her eyes as plain as day. He found it irksome to say the least. She was not the kind of woman he imagined ever finding attractive, though he doubted there were many men in whom she did not engender lustful thoughts. He had thought himself more in control. Forearmed, as it were, with the knowledge of the damage a woman could do to a man not on his guard.
‘The day after tomorrow, then,’ he said, and did not fail to catch her glance at O’Banyon. A glance seeking his approval. But for what?
The back of his neck tightened.
The well-being of his family hung on the success of this deal with O’Banyon. One wrong move and it could all go to hell.
Without doubt O’Banyon’s woman was temptation incarnate. A move in her direction and he would see his negotiations fall to ruin. Still, he wasna likely to make such a stupid mistake with a woman of her ilk. He had years of practise controlling the urges that got most men into trouble.
Chapter Three
Mr Gilvry had been just as easy to manipulate as any other man. He had done just as she wanted and Jack had been pleased. She still didn’t understand her own sense of disappointment. Since when had she cared what sort of man she put her hooks into? Usually she felt nothing but the satisfaction of a job well done. Satisfaction that she had made a little more money to add to her hoard, which was growing, but nowhere near as much as she needed.
The leer on Fergus McKenzie’s red-bearded face brought her wandering thoughts back to the present with a lurch. She let a small smile play across her mouth and separated the grapes on her plate with the scissors. Thank goodness they had finally reached the dessert course.
Dinner in their private parlour with a lout like McKenzie had been as pleasant as watching a pig at the trough. Thoughts well hidden, she delicately popped the plump red globe into her mouth and cast him a come-hither glance from beneath her lashes. The crude Scot licked already too-moist lips surrounded by all that untrimmed wiry red hair.
A small secret shudder ran down her spine at what she knew he was thinking. It shocked her, that sudden flash of fear. If Jack ordered her to his bed, she would do it. If she didn’t, she would face his wrath. A swift incapacitating punch which would keep her from the table for a week or more and no money coming in. Or a return to the brothel as a reminder of what her life would be without his support. She preferred the former. As Jack knew only too well.
‘Shall we get down to business?’ Jack said, drawing the man’s attention back to him with the signal she should go.
She breathed a silent sigh of relief. ‘If you gentlemen will excuse me,’ she said, smiling at McKenzie, ‘I will leave you to your port and your discussions.’
Jack rose with her. Clearly startled by the courtesy, the lowland Scot followed suit.
‘It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mr McKenzie,’ she said with a graceful inclination of her head he didn’t notice, so busy was he eyeing her barely covered breasts. Men. They were just so predictable.
Most of them.
Knock his eyes out, Jack had requested. So she’d chosen a gown even more revealing that the one she had worn the previous evening. A celestial blue that skimmed her nipples.
McKenzie inhaled a rasping breath as he stared at what he hoped was on offer. ‘Goo’ night, then, Mrs—er—Mrs...’
‘West,’ Jack supplied. ‘I’ll see you later, darlin’,’ Jack said with a leer of his own. Staking his prior claim, though he was not beyond serving her up to any man for the sake of business.
He’d served her up to Logan Gilvry. In a manner of speaking.
The difference, the small difference, was that Mr Gilvry was a gentleman. The squat man now lusting for her favours was as far away from a gentleman as the pig he resembled. She gave him her warmest, most seductive smile and batted her lashes. ‘I hope we meet again soon.’
She swept out.
‘Now,’ Jack said as she closed the door. ‘Tell me about this trouble you are having with the Gilvry brothers and what you intend to do about it.’
‘Logan is the worst. He’s a thorn in my side.’
‘Is he, now?’ Jack replied musingly.
She would have lingered to hear more, but the maid, a little mousy thing assigned to her by the hotel, trundled in from the bedroom next door. ‘Is there anything I can be getting you, Mrs West?’
She wouldn’t put it past Jack to have the girl in his pay. Watching her. ‘Brandy, please, Muira.’ She needed something to take the edge off the revulsion she’d been feeling all night.
Logan Gilvry’s innocent smile with a touch of wickedness floated across her mind. A smile she would be resisting tomorrow. Or not. She inhaled a quick breath. She’d have no difficulty keeping him at a distance, lovely as he was. Giving in to passion had served her ill in the past. A mistake she had never made again. Compared to some of the men she had dealt with, handling this young Scot should be a simple matter.
Muira handed her the brandy and she took a sip, let the warmth slide down her throat. It did nothing for the coldness inside her. A good thing, too. It was a coldness she had cultivated and now carefully nurtured. ‘That will be all, thank you.’
The girl bobbed a curtsy and left.
She took another sip. And if she refused to drive out with Jack and Gilvry on the morrow? If she sent her regrets? She leaned her head back against the chair cushions, plush and soft against her head. Jack paid her because she was useful. The world was a cold hard place for women alone without family support. Unless she had money.
She drained her glass. As usual, she would do what must be done. And to hell with green-eyed panthers.
* * *
An hour or so later, Jack entered without knocking, rubbing his hands together, his eyes glinting with pleasure.
‘What did you think?’ he asked, crossing to the console to pour a drink.
A chance to nudge things in the direction she preferred? Perhaps. She put her book aside. ‘A man who gets the job done.’
‘Aye.’ Jack brought his drink and stood with one foot on the hearth. ‘But I wouldn’t trust him with a farthing.’
True.