Saying I Do To The Scoundrel. Liz Tyner

waiting. Now Fillmore summons me himself and he barely knocks before the door opens into my bedchamber. He looks at me and my skin feels tainted.’

      Katherine watched as the scoundrel paused, then took a swallow and he didn’t speak.

      He moved the chair back a bit to stretch his legs and she noticed he was careful not to touch her. She thought he sorted the plan in his mind.

      He stood and she looked up at him and placed her hands in her lap. His size overpowered her. Her heart skipped a beat. But, that was why she had chosen him. She needed a man who could threaten with his presence. Who looked capable of violence.

      This man appeared suited to danger. The darkness about him didn’t stop with his clothes or his face. It seeped from the air he breathed. She couldn’t really examine him as she would have liked. If she tried, something tickled in her throat and she felt warmth in her chest, then she had to turn away.

      ‘I would need one more thing, of course, to agree.’ He stopped and gave a smile even a mother wouldn’t believe.

      She waited.

      ‘I would need to know the lady’s name.’

      ‘My name is Miss Katherine Wilder.’ She aligned her bonnet. ‘Miss Katherine Louisa May Wilder.’ She waited, the room silent.

      ‘As the one risking so much, on merely a lady’s word, you understand if I cannot agree to the methods used in our business, I will respectfully decline and never see or hear you again.’

      She made a clucking noise. ‘I agree as I do not see how you will be able to fault me in any way. I assure you, I have read many novels and have learned much about crime. I did not lie when I claimed I have the mind of a master criminal. This will be as easy as picking an apple from a tree.’

      ‘I believe a lady named Eve said something similar once.’

      ‘Yes.’ Katherine regarded him patiently. ‘Since I do want to be tossed out, you’ve nothing to complain about.’

      ‘No. No complaints at all.’ He crossed his bare arms in front of his chest.

      She averted her eyes again. The man should put on his shirt.

      ‘Tell me more.’ Brandt tapped his fingertips of his right hand against the muscles of his left arm.

      She dropped her eyes.

      ‘Continue.’ He kept tapping.

      She tugged her cloak around herself.

      ‘Are you chilled?’ he asked, his voice holding the innocence of a rector in church. ‘Wearing a cloak on such a warm day?’

      She didn’t answer immediately, but pulled at the edge of her glove. ‘I wish,’ she continued, ‘to be abducted from in front of Almack’s on Sunday morning.’

      She heard a strange noise from his lips and glared at him. She was certain he tittered. Men were not meant to titter.

      ‘Surely Tuesday or Wednesday night would be better. I can’t remember which night the lovelies race to Almack’s.’

      ‘It would be my preference as well.’ She kept her chin high and used the same distance she used when scolding a maid. ‘But the carriages swarm the street. They’d block the way as we left.’ She leaned a bit towards Brandt and lowered her voice. ‘To have a successful plan one must anticipate all possibilities.’ Then she stood and her voice regained its command. ‘I am only about with my stepfather on Sunday morning. He insists we attend services as a show of our perfection. Besides, it’s the only time he doesn’t have a weapon at hand.’

      ‘A weapon?’ His brows furrowed. ‘That’s something I might need to take into consideration.’

      ‘I did for you.’ She made a fist. ‘I want him to be frightened as well. I want him to think that, in one moment, a blackguard could take him away.’

      ‘Why didn’t you choose to have him robbed and killed?’

      ‘They don’t hang well-born women,’ she spoke with a bit of a sniff. ‘But I wouldn’t wish to be the first and, while I don’t love the man, I can’t be responsible for his murder.’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘If you wish to throw in a few punches his way, I would not suggest more than six. He’s spindly.’ She held up one finger. ‘But absolutely no blood. Our laundress has no time for frivolities.’

      ‘How many punches would be the exact number you prefer?’

      ‘Let me see your fists.’

      He held up a hand, fingers closed.

      She examined his knuckles. ‘Perhaps you should not punch him. He’s thin, old and, well, I don’t know if he could survive.’

      ‘What if he decides to protect you and I must throttle him?’ Brandt lifted his eyebrows.

      ‘He will not.’ She gently shook her head. She tried not to let her face show Brandt how inept he was in the ways of crime. ‘Simply follow the plan. Don’t worry about anything else. I will be carried away by you and you will not deviate from my instructions.’

      He shut his eyes, waited a few seconds and then opened them.

      ‘This is life or death,’ she snapped out the words.

      He shook his head and moved back to the chair. He again propped an elbow on the table and rested his cheek on it. ‘Continue. I’m listening.’

      The raptness in his face didn’t fool her. He already overacted. She lowered her eyes and used one finger to touch the table and moved as if following the path of the carriage. ‘I’ll pretend illness to get my stepfather to stop the carriage. You’ll be waiting by the bookseller’s with a gig—out of sight.’ She indicated an intersection, touching the table. ‘When the carriage stops, you’ll wrench open the door and pull me out.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘My carriage is not attended by anyone foolhardy enough to risk the plan by attacking you, but you may bring a discharged weapon to make sure of our success.’

      ‘I must have a gig and a weapon.’ He held out an open palm.

      She shook her head. ‘You may reimburse yourself from the ransom money. If—’ she leaned closer ‘—you purchase the necessary tools instead of stealing them.’

      ‘I must have blunt.’ He waved an arm around the room. ‘You see nothing to sell. And I’ll not steal a pistol or a horse.’ He again put his palm out. ‘No one would have a bit of trouble fashioning a rope necklace for me.’

      She leaned back and reached inside her cloak. She took a purse from the depth of her clothing, but paused before handing it to him. ‘It’s taken me four years to get this much.’ She raked her eyes over him. ‘Don’t squander it.’

      He took the leather, used a finger to loosen the ties and looked inside. He frowned and raised his eyes. ‘I suppose this will buy a knife and a saddle.’

      ‘You’ll have to manage.’

      ‘I can cut back on my own costs.’ His eyes had an exaggerated mournfulness. ‘But the poor lightskirts will have hungry children.’

      She reached to snatch the purse from his hands, but he moved the leather pouch aside quickly. She lowered her hand.

      ‘I will contact you soon to give you an exact date and make sure you’ve purchased the supplies.’ She said each word carefully. ‘Please be home in the mornings as it is the only time I can easily move from my house without any suspicion.’

      ‘You don’t ask much.’ He spoke so quietly he almost mouthed the words to himself.

      ‘I will need to be housed somewhere as I await the ransom.’ She looked around and shook her head at the same time. ‘You’ll need to find other quarters and you must always act as a gentleman in my presence.’

      He raised his brows and gave one long blink at her.

      ‘I