“A contract? With those killers?” MacMasters’s brows formed an imposing inverted vee.
“Call it what you will. I have something they want. And they have something quite precious to me. An exchange must be arranged.” She kept her emotions tightly leashed, but she couldn’t entirely still the tremor in her voice. Damn the man, making this cruel situation intolerably worse.
Was it her imagination, or did the harsh set of his features ease? Not soften. No, that word would never apply. But the tense set of his jaw relaxed, and his eyes regarded her with something that looked like compassion.
“You said the man you knew as Richard Abbott gave ye the book. Was there a closeness between the two of ye?” MacMasters studied her beneath hooded lids. “Ye’ve feelings for the mon?”
Good heavens, was MacMasters suggesting she harbored some romantic attraction for Mr. Abbott, some twinge of illicit emotion? The very notion brought a bitter taste to her mouth. She’d never been able to fathom how her sister had fallen so hard and so fast for the swift-talking charmer. And now, anger percolated in her veins. The selfish cad had taken Laurel to Scotland and immersed the child in his dangerous dealings. Had his daughter been a disguise of sorts, a prop he used to play the doting father on holiday? Or had Abbott been unable to flee the country without the one thing in his life he’d still loved?
She stared down at her toes for a heartbeat, drawing in a breath to bring her emotions under leash. When she met MacMasters’s eyes, his gaze pierced every defense.
“I felt nothing for Richard Abbott besides gratitude for his generous gift. Even so, I would not abandon him in a time of need.”
Sharp creases framed MacMasters’s eyes. “Ye’re not abandoning him. He’s likely dead by now. But ye already knew that when ye left London, didn’t ye?”
“I have no confirmation that he is alive. Nor that he is dead.” She set down the cup and reached for her valise. Her fingers tightened around the handle. “Now I’ll thank you to let me be on my way.”
MacMasters blocked her path. “I can’t do that.”
“You’ve no right to keep me here.”
“Lass, if ye’re determined to take advantage of Cranston’s hospitality, I will nae try to stop ye. But I need what’s in that case.”
She hiked her chin another inch. “So, you’re no better than a common thief. I suspected as much.”
The corners of his mouth tipped into a smile. If only he’d scowl, she’d be far less distracted by the desire to drink in those jade eyes. Damn the man.
“A thief?” He appeared to muse over the word. “Perhaps. But not of the common ilk.”
“I will contact the authorities. I know your names and I know the location of this residence. I doubt you wish attention to be drawn to your nefarious activities.”
“Nefarious activities?” Harrison cocked a brow. “She’s clever. I like that. Quite an improvement over the women you usually bring here, I’d say. I doubt most of those lovelies could even pronounce the words, much less employ them to insult you.”
She shot the physician a glare. “I’m pleased my vocabulary meets your standards. I’ll have you know I’ve never been thought of as a lovely.”
MacMasters slowly shook his head. “Ah, ye’re bonny enough. Damn shame ye’re a hell of a lot of trouble. I’ve had men try to kill me, and the cretins are at the doorstep lookin’ to finish the job. I’ve had to chase ye down after ye managed to stuff yer skirts through a window and drop to the ground without breakin’ yer pretty neck, and I still don’t know what the hell ye’re up to. I won’t have the strength left to perform any nefarious activities by the time we’re through with this night.”
She let out a little huff. “Well, I never!”
“’Tis no wonder. No man could endure chasing after ye and still have enough spirit left in his body to do more than collapse.”
She shot the physician a glance, hoping to glimpse outrage at his brother’s uncouth words. Harrison MacMasters seemed a gentleman, far more so than the man who’d swept her away from the tavern. But she saw no censure. No anger. Only a twitch of his lips that betrayed the beginnings of a smile.
Harrison’s attention settled on the door. The white-capped sentry stood in the portal, interest brightening her blue eyes. She came closer, seeming to inspect Johanna. “I’d already seen the bottom of ye. It’s good t’get a look at yer face.”
Johanna couldn’t keep the words in. “I beg yer pardon.”
A smile tugged at the spindly matron’s lips, softening her care-lined features. “I saw ye makin’ yer escape. I’ve seen many a woman come and go from this place, but I can’t say I’ve ever seen any make quite as interestin’ an exit.”
“Oh. My.” Johanna’s cheeks heated.
“Ye’re a bonny one, ye are.” She slanted Connor MacMasters a knowing glance. “I can see why she caught yer eye.”