The Widow Vanishes (8 page)

What would it be like to be so desired? Annabel wondered. So cherished ... and loved?

She slid a glance beneath her lashes at McLeod, and her heart gave a wistful squeeze. It would be easy to fall for the Scot, a strong, noble warrior who'd protected her time and again. If only she were his equal. If only she'd met him before Randall, when she'd still had a claim to virtue and honor ...

"Of course Mrs. Foster is welcome to stay here," Mrs. Hunt was saying. "I'd love some company. Tell me, Mrs. Foster, do you like to read?"

"Er, yes." Annabel blinked at the change in topic. The intensity of the last few days had diminished her capacity for polite conversation. "I read novels mostly. My taste is of a frivolous persuasion, I'm afraid."

Mrs. Hunt beamed. "Mine as well. Who are your favorite authors?"

As it had been some time since Annabel had had the luxury of sitting back with a book, she had to think for a moment. "I enjoy Mrs. Radcliffe and Mrs. Reeves," she said hesitantly. "More recently, I discovered the work of a new author by the name of P.R. Fines—"

Annabel jumped at Mrs. Hunt's shriek.

"Did you
hear
that?" Mrs. Hunt's guinea-bright curls bobbed as she turned to her husband.

"Hard to miss it, buttercup." Mr. Hunt's mouth twitched. "She said it as plain as day."

Mrs. Hunt's gaze swung to McLeod. "You didn't put her up to it, did you, Will?"

McLeod held his hands up. "Topic never came up."

"What topic?" Annabel said, bewildered. "Did I say something wrong?"

"On the contrary," Mr. Hunt said. "You just paid my wife a compliment."

"The nicest thing anyone could say," Mrs. Hunt added.

"Oh ... well. I'm glad."
What on earth?
Annabel wondered.

"You see, my dear,"—Mrs. Hunt's eyes twinkled merrily—"
I
am P. R. Fines."

Annabel gawked at the pretty young woman. "
You're
the famous novelist?"

Mrs. Hunt nodded, smiling.

"I've read all of your books," Annabel blurted. "Priscilla is the most brilliant, intrepid of heroines. And the ending of your last book, when she and her husband got trapped in that catacomb with the mummified remains and the ancient curse—why, I've been waiting with bated breath for the next installment!"

"It was delayed by the birth of our son Garrett. I've recently started writing again," the authoress said, "and I must say this book is even
better
than the others."

"My wife is nothing if not modest." Mr. Hunt grinned when his lady made a face at him. "Well, McLeod, it appears that the chits will have plenty to prattle about. I'll escort them home—and keep them out of trouble."

Mrs. Hunt tilted her head saucily at her husband. "Up for a challenge, are you, sir?"

"Minx," Hunt murmured.

"Obliged to you both," McLeod said. "I'll fetch Mrs. Foster as soon as I'm done."

The pleasantness of the moment burst like a bubble. Panic returned, and Annabel clutched the Scot's sleeve. "Todd's dangerous. You'll be careful, won't you?"

"Always am." A smile softened McLeod's craggy countenance. "Don't fret, beauty—I can handle the dodgy bastard."

He picked up her hand, his firm lips brushing her knuckles, and longing pulsed over her. A mad desire to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him goodbye. But it wasn't her place, and she didn't wish to embarrass him in front of his friends. Throat cinched, she watched him go off with Mr. Hunt.

"I wouldn't worry about Will," Mrs. Hunt said brightly. "He's more than capable of taking care of himself. Why, Mr. Hunt always said Will was one of the finest guards who ever worked for him."

"Yes, of course, ma'am," Annabel mumbled.

Another worry joined all the others. Life had taught her that none judged virtue as harshly as other women, and she must appear shabby and ill-bred indeed to the fine lady. Her ambiguous "friendship" with McLeod left much to speculation. And her cast-off clothes and debt to a cutthroat certainly wouldn't elevate her in anyone's estimation.

Cheeks heating, she said, "I'm sorry to be a bother, Mrs. Hunt. You mustn't mind me—"

"May we be Percy and Annabel?" the other interrupted.

"Er, yes, if you'd like—"

"Excellent. Now I have a favor to ask, Annabel: I've done an initial draft of my book and would dearly love another's opinion."

"You want
me
to read your book?"

"Only if you don't mind." Percy smiled sheepishly. "I understand if it's too much to ask—"

"I'd love to," Annabel said in a rush. "In fact, I'd be
honored
."

Percy's eyes danced. "I'm so glad Will brought you today. I sense a kindred spirit."

'Twas impossible to resist the other's cheery kindness. Yet as Annabel tentatively smiled back, she wondered what Percy would think of her shameful history. A vise clamped around her heart.

She'd never be free from the past, from the choices she'd made.

Anxiety swamped her. She could only pray that McLeod wouldn't come to harm because of her misdeeds. She'd never forgive herself if anything happened to him.

Please, God, protect him. He's decent and honorable—a man I can't help but ... trust.

ELEVEN

"You want to do
what
?" Malcolm Todd bellowed.

"You heard me. I want to pay off Mrs. Foster's debt," Will said.

They were in one of the club's private reception rooms. The cutthroat sat on a throne-like chair upon a carpeted dais whilst Will stood before him several steps down. Even so, Will was eye level with the little despot. Todd bristled with rage; the pair of armed footmen flanking him tensed in readiness.

"I sent you to find the wench," Todd hissed. "Yet you come to me empty-handed—and you have the bollocks to try to
negotiate
her release?"

"You didn't tell me Annabel Foster was paying off her husband's debts," Will shot back. "If I had known she was an innocent widow, I wouldn't have agreed to hunt her down."

"Got you wrapped around her little finger, hasn't she? The bitch must have a sweet cunt," Todd sneered.

"Do
not
speak of her that way," Will said, his teeth grinding.

Todd's eyes narrowed. "I'll speak as I wish. You're interfering in my business."

"I'm not asking for any favors. I'll pay her debt, fair and square."

A silence. The cutthroat said, "Yes, you will pay."

The other's calm, thoughtful tone prickled Will's nape. Though his muscles bunched, he said evenly, "I'll have the five hundred quid to you by the morrow."

"I don't want your money, McLeod. Mrs. Foster owed me five hundred pounds. If you wish to take on her debt, the price for you is different," Todd said silkily.

His instincts had told him that this wouldn't be easy. "What do you want?"

"Harding."

Will's gut knotted at the mention of Todd's foe. "I'm not a murderer."

"I don't want you to kill the bugger. That pleasure will be mine—one I'll savor once I get my hands on the wily bastard." Todd's smile was razor-thin. "Harding surrounds himself with an entourage, one that a fly would have difficulty getting past. Which is where you come in."

Goddamnit.
Will did
not
want to get involved in the bloodbath between the cutthroats.

"You trail him and report his comings and goings back to me. You find the chink in his armor and lead my men to him." Todd examined the manicured fingernails of one hand. "Know this, McLeod: if you should fail to deliver Harding, I will collect from Mrs. Foster—in the same fashion that I collected from her husband."

Ice spread through Will's veins. "Are you threatening her?" he growled.

"I don't make threats—I make promises." Todd's eyes gleamed with vicious intent.

"
You stay away from her.
"

Todd's guards closed ranks as Will surged forward. Metal scraped as the brutes pulled their swords, pointing them at Will. Fists balled, he glared over the guards at Todd's smirking face.

"Temper, temper," the gaming hell owner said. "Mrs. Foster's fate lies in your hands: deliver Harding to me, and I'll set her free. Refuse my offer and ... let's just say you will need those exceptional tracking skills of yours to find her. Piece by pretty piece."

Will's chest heaved. This was no empty threat. Todd was more than capable of such cruelty: in fact, the bastard enjoyed it. The thought of Annabel being hurt, being killed ... As much as Will hated being controlled by the cutthroat, hated being anyone's man but his own, he had no choice.

"I give you Harding," he said, "and you will leave Mrs. Foster and me in peace."

Todd waved his brutes back into position. His smile had a crafty edge. "We have ourselves a bargain, McLeod."

*****

Will went to fetch Annabel from the Hunts' residence, a townhouse in a fashionable Mayfair square. He kept his demeanor calm despite his inner turmoil. He'd done what needed to be done. He didn't regret the deal he'd made for Annabel's freedom and safety. When the butler led him through a gleaming marble foyer and toward the drawing room, he fixed a smile on his face.

Entering the elegantly appointed room, his smile deepened unexpectedly into a true grin. Annabel sat next to Mrs. Hunt on a green settee. Neither took any notice of him as they had their heads bent over the imp sitting on Annabel's lap. The wee lad had a wild mop of blond curls and stared up at Annabel with big blue eyes. His little fist grasped a loose auburn tress.

"Wed," the tot announced.

"
Red
," his mama corrected. "Annabel's hair is red, Garrett."

"Wed," the lad said with emphasis and shoved the curl into his mouth.

"Garrett, do not eat our guest's hair!" Mrs. Hunt scolded. With a practiced motion, she whisked her offspring off Annabel's lap. "I'm ever so sorry. I fear that he may be part canine—he likes to gnaw on everything, including his older sister. I count myself fortunate that Pippa hasn't bitten him back."

"It's quite alright," Annabel said, smiling. "He's adorable."

"He is, isn't he?" Mrs. Hunt ruffled her son's hair.

"Man!" Garrett pointed a chubby finger in Will's direction.

Annabel jumped to her feet. The shimmering relief in her violet eyes loosened the knots in Will's chest. Without thinking, he opened his arms, and she rushed into them. His lips found hers naturally. Their kiss tasted of welcome, reunion, relief. For several moments, they clung, mouths pressed together, breathing one another. Then she buried her face in his waistcoat.

"I've been so
worried
," she said in a muffled voice. "Are you alright?"

The rightness of holding her dissipated some of his tension.

"I'm fine. Everything is settled," he said against her hair.

Shivering, she leaned back to look at him. "How—how did things go with Todd?"

"It's done and over with. I'll explain the details later," he said.

She nodded, her eyes wet, and hugged him fiercely once again.

He was luxuriating in the warmth of her welcome, the plush press of her curves against his own hard edges, when a child's voice said, "Kiss!"

With a sharp breath, Annabel pulled away. Her gaze darted to her hostess. Wiping hastily at her reddening cheeks, she stammered, "P-Please forgive me—"

"There's nothing to forgive. In fact," Mrs. Hunt said with a hint of mischief, "I would say that now we are quite
even
on that account."

Will's lips tipped up. The lines around Annabel's eyes didn't ease, however. In that moment, he realized how much her hostess' approval meant to her.

"I don't want you to think that I'm rag-mannered," she said with aching honesty. "Especially around children ..."

"Goodness, how do you think this scamp learned that word?" Mrs. Hunt said.

"Kiss!" Garrett repeated gleefully. "Mama ... Papa ... kiss!"

TWELVE

As much as she'd enjoyed Percy's company, Annabel was relieved when McLeod politely declined the other's invitation for supper. She had so many questions, all of them better asked in private. She managed to contain herself until he and she boarded the hackney to his residence.

"Did Todd accept your payment on my behalf?" she said.

Seated beside her in the jostling vehicle, McLeod took her hand. "The matter's settled, Annabel," he said in a deep, calming voice. "You have nothing to worry about any longer."

Unease tiptoed up her spine. "You're not answering my question. Did he take your money? Whatever expenses you've incurred on my behalf, I will find a way to pay you back."

"I've already told you that is unnecessary."

"Not to me," she persisted. "Did he want more than five hundred pounds?"

McLeod released her hand. "It wasn't that simple."

She should have known. "What did he want?" she said through dry lips. When he remained silent, she said more insistently, "Tell me, McLeod. I have a right to know."

He sighed. Scrubbed the back of his neck. "Todd wants me to deliver his enemy to him. A rival by the name of Harding."

Annabel's blood chilled. Her hands flew to her mouth. "McLeod, you can't!"

"It's one job. After that, you'll be safe. And I'll wash my hands of Todd for good."

"But the danger—" Her chest constricted at the thought of harm befalling the Scot. Because of
her
. "I cannot allow you to take such a risk for me."

"It's naught to fret over. I'm to monitor Harding's schedule and report the information back to Todd. When the time comes to the actual capture, Todd's men will do the dirty work."

She shook her head. "It's too dangerous. First thing on the morrow, I'll go to Todd and—"

"The hell you will." He grabbed her arm, his dark eyes burning into hers. "Todd will hurt you, do you understand? He won't be satisfied with five hundred quid or even a thousand. It's no longer about the money. In his eyes, you've smeared his reputation by running, and the vicious bastard will take pleasure in making you pay. The same way he made your dead husband pay."

"He—he said that?" she said, her voice quaking.

"He vowed it, unless I give him Harding." McLeod tipped her chin up. "Accept that this must be, lass. I have no choice—and neither do you."