When a Lady Kisses a Scot (Her Majesty's Most Secret Service) by Tara Kingston

Author:Tara Kingston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: British Historical Literature; Historical European Fiction; Scottish Historical Romance; Historical Scottish Fiction; Victorian Historical Romance; Women's Historical Fiction; Historical Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Fiction; Victorian romance; historical romance; romantic suspense; London; gaslight; Highlander; Scottish Highlands; historical romance; occult; british history; secret agents; covert agents; journalists; Single Title Romance; Entangled Publishing; amara; Tara Kingston; Full Length fiction; Bodyguard; Protector; Reunited Lovers; Second Chance Love; Woman in Peril; Mystery; Stolen Kiss; Series; Suspense; Fall;
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Amara)
Published: 2019-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Rose glanced down at her dress, smoothing out a crease in the silk with her fingertips. With puffed, leg-of-mutton sleeves and a choker collar, the pale green gown was a practical choice for the day, but would not do for an elegant ball attended by London’s elite. The small traveling bag she’d brought to Quinn House contained two other dresses, each as plain as this one. Another gown—one of her most scandalous stage costumes—remained tucked away in the trunk stored at MacAllister’s town house. If she wished to find her image on London’s tabloids, the form-fitting red gown would certainly do the trick. She smiled to herself. Perhaps she would choose that dress for the evening. At the very least, she’d provide an effective distraction.

Mac walked into the library, his expression dour. “I will be leaving shortly—I’m in need of proper attire for the evening.” His mouth turned down into a little scowl. “Perhaps I’ll even throw in a top hat.”

“I’d rather you didn’t wear one of those ridiculous things.” Truth be told, she’d much rather he left his silky chestnut brown hair uncovered and accessible to her fingertips.

“I trust you’re referring to the hat and not the suit. I can well imagine the expression on the matrons’ faces if I walked in without benefit of clothing.”

“Actually, I imagine many of them would not truly object, despite their protests to the contrary.”

He shot her a playful scowl. “Just my bloody luck—that woman would have to be hosting a blasted ball. I’d prefer to approach the situation directly rather than milling about in a starched shirt and too-tight necktie, feigning merriment.”

“I suspect the timing of the event so soon after my encounter with Mrs. Rathbone is not a coincidence.” Rose pictured the widow’s beautiful features and icy expression. “Have you ever met her?”

“No, but I’m told she’s as cunning as a snake.”

“There’s something about her, an evil I can’t quite put into words.”

MacAllister brushed a stray curl back behind her ear. “I don’t underestimate Mrs. Rathbone’s capacity for violence. After the woman plunged a knife into Jacob Merrick’s heart, she displayed no trace of emotion. No regret. No grief. She described what she’d done as matter-of-factly as if she’d shot a rabid dog. But I don’t attribute such coldness to evil.”

“MacAllister, I know what I felt. There’s something about her that gives me the shivers.”

A slight smile warmed his features. “If she’d given me that hideous little carving of Medusa, I might well feel the same way.”

“You believe she’s the one who sent the package with the mourning ring?”

“I wouldn’t discount the possibility.”

“I do not wish to ever see it again.”

He clasped his hand over hers, the strength and gentleness of his touch reassuring her, infusing her with a sense of faith in what the future might hold. “I suspect Mrs. Rathbone or whoever sent you that ring wanted to stoke your fear.”

“They’ve done a fine job of it.” Leaning closer, she drank in the faint notes of his soap. She’d always been partial to the aroma of bergamot.

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