skin has an aversion to rope burns—’ he touched his neck ‘—so even though I am honoured to be selected, I decline.’ He clasped the door, knowing he would have to send her on her way quickly and not really wanting to.
He just needed to be left alone. ‘Out.’
‘You must listen.’ She held up both palms.
He shook his head and reached for her arm. The simple touch of her brought back the memories he lived with, blurring his vision. He had to get the woman out of his life. Now. He backed away, not wanting to stir any memories of a woman’s softness. Those memories had taunted him, wrapping their dark, nettled cloak around him, until he discovered they would not sting so much if he appeased them with drink.
He stepped around her and touched the door.
‘You would get away with it, I’m sure,’ her voice pleaded.
He stilled. Before he could stop anything, the soap aroma tangled around him. His throat contracted and, for a second, he couldn’t speak.
‘Get out and don’t come back.’ His voice returned with force.
Her eyes widened and he pushed the thought of her fear away.
‘Leave,’ he snarled, snapping his teeth together on the word. ‘You.’ His voice spoke with the authority of a hammer on an anvil. ‘Must leave.’ His arm slashed in the direction of the door. ‘Go.’
She stared at him and he realised her cheeks had no colour.
‘You must do this.’ Her eyes begged. ‘I’ll die if you don’t.’
She meant the words. He could tell by her widened eyes. But just because she meant them, it didn’t mean they were true.
‘Well.’ She drew in a breath and crossed her arms, stilling that ridiculous purse with glass beads. ‘I understand if you might be too weak to help an innocent lady.’ The bravado in her voice ended on a tremble. She pulled in a deep breath. ‘After all, you near reek of spirits and I do suppose you could do with a bit of a wash and a shave, and for that matter a good haircut, but might you suggest someone who will do my errand as I have spent a good morning pursuing you and I do not have much time to waste finding someone else.’
‘You do not have time to waste, yet you are appearing on my doorstep?’ he asked, quietly. ‘Perhaps you should be at—your home—not wasting time there?’ he said.
Her shoulders rose and her chin jutted, but her eyes didn’t follow through on the confidence. ‘I am here to offer you employment.’
‘Do I look as though I want employment?’ His lips turned up.
‘I have set myself on a course and I will see it to the end. Goodness knows it cannot get any worse.’ She adjusted her bonnet.
‘Whatever that end may be.’ He forced the words through his teeth. ‘I must compliment you on the bonnet. No one would ever notice you about in such inconspicuous wear.’
She eyed him as if he were untouchable. ‘This bonnet was made by Annabel Pierce and is of the finest quality in the world.’
‘La-de-doodle.’ He leaned forward. ‘Do you think she might make one for me?’
‘She would not let you step foot in her fine establishment.’ She tightened her shoulders ever closer. ‘Are you considering the plan?’
He might as well let her have her say. He’d not fall back asleep easily when she left and he’d be lying, looking up at the ceiling and thinking about her, and wondering what she’d wanted.
‘How much money is to be made?’ Soft words from hard lips.
She appraised him, then she moved to the chair, sitting as if she prepared for a portrait.
He slid into his seat, then gave a twist, making the legs scrape slightly against the floor.
‘What’s your name, Love?’ he asked the woman as she sat across from him.
She slowly blinked and looked at him. ‘You’ll find out if—if—I decide to hire you.’ Her chin dropped. She placed her palms flat on the table, and leaned forward. ‘And do not call me love.’
‘Well.’ He clasped his hands behind his head and pushed back. ‘You kind of look like a Nigel to me. So you can keep your name secret for ever, for all I care. I’ll just think of you as Nigel and, if the magistrate catches me risking my neck for you, I’ll be able to say I owe it all to Nigel.’
‘Do not call me that.’
‘You know my name, do you not? Surely you found out while you were asking questions.’ He looked at her and she averted her eyes and a hint of blush stained her cheeks. He grinned.
Her words were stronger. ‘Brandt is all I know of your name.’
He looked down, dismissing her, and let the front legs of his chair thump to the floor.
‘Do you want to listen or not?’ The voice rose at the end, a note of panic in it.
He shrugged, put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand.
She clasped her hands in her lap. ‘It’s simple really. You’ll do the kidnapping in the morning. The footman should be no problem. Try not to kill the older man—very important as he will pay the ransom. You’ll handle a ransom note. Collect the blunt. Take a thousand pounds of it, give me nineteen thousand pounds and be on your way.’
‘Kidnapping. I could work in a quick nab as I walked to the tavern. Nothing to it.’ He smiled, leaning towards her, his eyes shining. ‘Aren’t you being overly generous?’ he asked, pretending puzzlement. ‘And—’ he raised his head high and put his palms flat on the table ‘—how greedy I feel. For a woman such as you, a man should risk his life for no coin. A simple kidnapping. How much effort can such a thing take?’
She raised her chin, tilted her head sideways a bit and took in a breath, then looked to the reticule. ‘I have the details worked out exactly.’ She spread the ties and lifted a folded piece of paper. Then she looked at his eyes and flinched. She lowered her hand, slipping the note away. ‘You’ll just have to follow my guide. I believe I have the mind of a master criminal.’
‘And what crimes have you committed in the past, Nigel?’ he asked, his voice softening. She didn’t raise her eyes.
‘Surely you are jesting.’ He stood and walked to the bed, knelt on one knee. He felt under the bed and pulled out a shirt, or what was once a shirt, and tossed it into the corner.
He pushed himself back to his feet and frowned, then he leaned down, tossed another garment aside and found an extra bottle, thankful he’d remembered to bring home some breakfast.
He held the liquid towards her, raising his brows. She grimaced and he popped the cork and put the neck to his lips.
He caught
