“How dare you threaten me!”
“You’re the one issuing threats, doll,” he says evenly. “I’m only tellin’ you how this’ll go.”
He’s walking her back toward the house. Dragging her, more like. I keep the light trained on the ground in front of him.
“You want me to call in anyone at all? Keenan?”
“Oh, no,” Nolan says, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s taking immense pleasure in overpowering the woman. “I’ll see to her on my own, and will fill you in in the morning. You’ve a wife to see to, Keenan’s got his own family. Little miss nosy and I will have a bit of a chat then she’ll be on her way.”
“We will not,” she says.
“Aye,” he says cheerfully. “But we will.”
It finally dawns on me who she could be, the reporter he mentioned to Keenan that night in the club. “She the reporter?”
“Oh, aye,” Nolan says when we reach the steps.
“Just doing my job,” she says to me. “Tell him to let me go.”
“Ah, no. Sorry ‘bout that,” I say. “Can’t do that.”
I can’t see her in the poor light, save the masses of red hair.
“Aye, lass,” he says. “And I’m just doing mine.”
I open the front door and he drags her in. Several uniformed servants stand nearby, but no one even looks their way. They’re used to us bringing folks in, and they’re paid well to mind their own business.
“Night, then, Nolan,” I say, and head for the stairs.
“Night, brother.”
Aileen’s waiting for me upstairs. I hope I have nothing else that draws my attention tonight. Nolan will sort out the spy we’ve got downstairs, and the few jobs I’ve got to do can wait until the morning.
Eagerness gathers low in my belly. I enjoyed the hell out of Aileen tonight. I intend on enjoying her even more later.
When I get to the room, I’m pleased to see my guard’s waiting beside the door.
“Thank you,” I tell them. “The lass is safe inside, then?”
“Yes, sir,” they say in unison.
“Good job. Everything’s fine. We had a spy, but Nolan’s got it under control.”
I open the door and leave them there. They’ll stay the night and a new guard will come in the morning. I close the door behind me and listen for Aileen, but hear nothing. I kick off my shoes and walk into the bedroom. She’s lying on the bed, a book in hand that’s fallen to the side, forgotten. She falls asleep so easily, living life at full throttle, until she collapses in exhaustion. Her eyes are closed, her mouth hanging open. Christ, she’s pretty as a picture, wearing the dress we bought only today that she changed into at the restaurant. Her shoes are kicked to the side, her hair hanging about her in golden waves.
I take the book out of her hand and lay it on the bedside table, and she wakes with a start.
“Did I doze off?” she asks in bleary-eyed confusion.
“Aye.” I sit her up to help her undress, and she doesn’t protest.
She yawns widely. “I’m so… so tired.”
“Must’ve been the wine?”
“You think? Seems it’s knocked me on me arse.”
I can’t help but smile at that. I love how unpretentious she is. What you see is what you get. I tug down her zipper, and she shrugs out of the top of the dress.
“Lay back,” I tell her. “I’ll help y’out of it.”
“Course you will,” she says coyly. “Isn’t that what you do best?”
“Christ, I hope so.”
She giggles and obeys, lying back and letting me shimmy the dress down her body. I stifle a groan when she’s undressed. She wears a delicate, silky pink bra and matching knickers that dip low below her navel, just a wee scrap of a thing. She yawns and stretches her arms up over her head.
“Aren’t you a sight,” I murmur to myself. “Goddamn, woman.”
“What?” she says. I fold her dress and place it on the bedside table, then kneel one knee beside her. I trace the delicate curve of her breast, just under the lacy bits. She bites her lip and watches me, her breath hitching when I slide my finger to the edge of her bra.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” I tell her.
“Curvy,” she says with disdain.
“I fucking love those curves. I’ll kiss every one of them and give thanks to the gods.”
“Do it,” she whispers with a grin. Her eyes twinkle at me as she bites her lip.
A challenge.
I lift her back and unfasten her bra. The fabric gives way and her breasts swing free. I groan and swallow.
“So fuckin’ gorgeous.”
I toss the bra up with her dress, then return to her. Kneeling on either side of her, I take hold of her knickers and drag them down over her hips. She lifts up to help me, watching as the thin fabric glides over and down her hips, her thighs, past her knees, then down to her ankles. I tug them off and fold them with her other clothes.