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  “I learned of it here this evening,” the officer replied. “But can you imagine, Sir Rupert, a prince of the Hanover monarchy and the scion of the Stuart dynasty breaking bread together? History in the making, indeed.”

  “More like treason in the making, sir,” Sir Rupert responded sharply. “A sworn enemy of the Crown meeting with the brother to the king? With no knowledge of the Prime Minister or the Home Office? The king will not be pleased. Or Lord Sidmouth either.”

  “Lord Sidmouth maintains his position by creating enemies for the Crown,” Aidan retorted. “Fear and hatred in the realm simply mean more influence and control for him, I’d say. Any meeting arranged to create lasting peace will not please him.”

  “What do you know about peace, Mr. Grant?” Sir Rupert huffed. “You who endanger lives by putting criminals like the Chattans back on the street.”

  “Have you forgotten, sir? You were too afraid for the case to reach its conclusion. Not I, but courts of law free men—like the Chattan brothers—who are unjustly accused. I only provide my services to protect the innocent against the plotting of men who clutch at power with both hands, men like you and your master Sidmouth.”

  “What plotting?” Burney scoffed.

  “The Home Office lures innocent people into committing crime. You entrap them with your agents. You create the very crimes that you prosecute men for.”

  “Take care, Mr. Grant. We create nothing. We identify, we expose, we prosecute. We drag the vermin from their holes and show the public their twisted plots.”

  “How miraculous that you happen to discover these plots prior to any actual crime being committed. In case after case, you arrest reformers and political foes. You charge them with crimes that are nothing more than thoughts. Only you call it conspiracy and depict these men as dangerous extremists.”

  “And that’s a credit to our organization. To our brilliance. We are everywhere. We hear everything. We are in people’s homes. We know the crimes they are willing to commit before they take the first step.”

  “You pit friends against one another, Sir Rupert. You tear families apart.”

  “We do what we must to protect the Crown. King and country. Certainly you’ve heard the phrase, even if you don’t know what it means.”

  “You are a stain on the honor of king and country. You’re a threat to free people whose lives you manipulate and destroy through your schemes.”

  “Save your speeches for the election, Mr. Grant. With radical opinions such as those, you’ll never be elected to Parliament.” He sent a sly look in Morrigan’s direction. “Not that you’re electable any longer anyway.”

  Morrigan put a hand on Aidan’s knee to stop him rising to his feet. They’d been married such a short time, and already her temper had been passed on to her husband.

  “Let me understand you, Sir Rupert,” Searc said. “You’re in favor of imprisoning men for crimes they may never have committed, but for your efforts to entrap them. For the sake of protecting king and country, as you say.”

  “Absolutely. We must stamp out threats before they come to fruition.”

  Before anyone could respond, the sound of pounding on a distant door was followed by raised voices. Searc was on his feet when the door of the dining room opened and a servant came in apologizing.

  “They’ll not go away, master. And they say they’ll wait not another minute.”

  “Who are they?” Searc barked. “How dare they interrupt me and my guests?”

  “The constable, sir. And four of his deputy constables. They’ve got a wagon and all in the lane.”

  “What do they want?”

  “They’re here to arrest someone.”

  “That’s preposterous!” Searc pushed by him, shouting down the hall. “What is this nonsense about?”

  A moment later, the constable entered, with his men close behind him. He was waving a document, and he bowed at the sight of the Lord Mayor.

  “Explain yourself,” Searc demanded curtly.

  The constable’s men spread out. They were armed with cudgels and looked ready to use them.

  “We’re here to take Sir Rupert Burney into custody.”

  Silence fell over the room.

  “On what charge?” Burney burst out. “I am an official of the Crown. You have no right to take me anywhere.”

  The constable drew the warrant from his coat, pointing it at the accused.

  “Sir Rupert Burney, you’re charged with conspiracy to commit an act of violence against the person of a member of the royal family.”

  “Of all the … this is absurd,” he sputtered. “Where did you get such a notion? I serve the royal family, and there is no member of—”

  “Tonight, we arrested twelve individuals, hired by you, who were arming themselves for the purpose of breaking into a dinner at the home of Captain Kenedy three days hence. Their instructions from you were to murder His Grace, the Duke of Clarence and—”

  “It’s a lie.” Burney jumped to his feet.

  “We have confessions already from the men we took tonight.”

  Sir Rupert turned to the Lord Mayor. “These imbeciles work for you. If you don’t take this in hand immediately, the Home Office will respond. This will not end well for you, that I swear.”

  Morrigan was impressed with how unperturbed the Lord Mayor appeared. He looked apologetically at his host before addressing Sir Rupert.

  “I suggest that you go with these men so that any misunderstanding can be handled without any disturbance to our host or the ladies.”

  Burney swung around and pointed at Colonel Wade, who was already on his feet. “Do something. You represent the Crown.”

  “Such a charge is quite serious, Constable.” The colonel crossed the room and took the paper from his hand. He read through the charges. “What you are saying is that Sir Rupert has committed acts of treason?”

  “Aye, sir. You might call it that. And there’s more to it.”

  Everyone waited while Colonel Wade thought for a moment before handing the warrant back. He gestured to the deputies.

  “Arrest him.”

  CHAPTER 35

  MORRIGAN

  Entrapping Burney in a net of his own devising seemed too easy to Morrigan, and once they took him away, her worry only intensified. He was a cunning enemy, and his tentacles were far reaching. She wondered how many people he had still at his beck and call, agents like Baker. How many would follow their master’s instructions, even though he was behind bars?

  Sir Rupert’s venomous gaze was directed toward only one person as he was being taken out of Searc’s dining room earlier tonight. Aidan. He knew he’d been beaten at his own game, and he knew who was responsible for it.

  Noises drifted into their bedchamber from the main road running from the quays through the Maggot. Voices of drunken sailors, the bark of a dog, the rattle and rumble of carts passing over the cobblestones. Morrigan had already heard stories from Sebastian about past attempts on Aidan’s life. Having another foe as vicious as this one kept her awake and listening.

  This was going to be her life. Tonight, tomorrow, for as long as they both lived. And as worrisome as the dangers were, she was proud of him for what he did, for the warrior that he was.

  With a sigh, Morrigan nestled into her husband’s arms and pressed her face against his naked chest. She loved him. She loved him. She could shout the words a hundred times and more, and it would still not be enough. She’d never known such happiness. Having Aidan trick her and convince her that it was time to cast aside her fears and marry him was stunning. And to love her, and make love to her, and teach her the thrill and beauty of their bodies as they joined was yet another miracle. Morrigan felt that for the first time she was whole, complete, healed.

  And yet, she still feared. She feared losing him. She couldn’t ignore that.

  “You’re digging your toes into my leg,” he growled.

  “My knees are bent. My toes are nowhere near your leg.”
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br />   Morrigan drew back to look into his face, but he wouldn’t let her get too far away. She could tell he was smiling.

  “I was going to say the ruckus in your head is louder than what’s going on in the street below this window, but that didn’t seem very romantic. So I decided to complain about your toes.”

  Strange as his sense of humor could be at times, she loved the way he could put a smile on her face, regardless of the situation.

  “I was thinking about Burney getting out of the jail and coming after you.”

  “He’ll never get out.”

  “Sir Rupert has money and influence. When his trial happens, he could get a good lawyer.”

  “He’ll never get out.”

  “His people could pay off those men who made statements against him. His friends at the Home Office could convince Madame Laborde to admit that she met with us. She could say we engineered the entire entrapment scheme, even though we only planted the seeds.”

  “He’ll never get out,” Aidan said again, tracing the frown creasing her forehead. The tip of his fingers caressed her face, moved down to the side of her neck, inching lower to the curves of her breasts.

  “They could move the trial back to London. Lord Sidmouth could assist him and—”

  “He’ll never get out.” He rolled Morrigan until she lay on top of him.

  Heat erupted within her as she felt his erection nestle against her. This was the way it was for them. Looking into each other’s eyes led to lovemaking. Arguing about the color of the sky led to lovemaking. Lying in bed talking about nothing led to lovemaking. A touch, a brush, a kiss, a smile led to lovemaking. The man was insatiable and so was she. And now this talk of Sir Rupert getting out of jail or not was leading to lovemaking.

  She raised herself to look into his face, and he took advantage of the movement, nipping playfully at her breast. That was all it took. Her legs opened a little wider. Her body had a will of its own.

  “Before we get distracted…” She took a quick breath, feeling him pressing into her.

  “This is not distraction.”

  He took hold of her breast and brought it to his mouth again. Sparks exploded inside of her, and Morrigan could think of nothing but wanting him buried deep within her. She was ready for him. It seemed she was always ready for him. She moved her hips and he slid into her.

  Later, when they were both spent and she lay sprawled across his body, Morrigan asked her question again.

  “What makes you think that he’ll never get out?”

  He chuckled. “You’re very difficult to distract.”

  “Tell me.”

  “For the same reason that Wemys was afraid and wanted me to hide him. Sir Rupert knows too much. And he can talk all he wants about ‘king and country.’ The only thing that matters to him right now is saving his own skin, and he’ll do anything, make any deal to accomplish that. He would testify and bring down Lord Liverpool’s government if he had to, without thinking twice about it. Burney would destroy the Home Office entirely to escape the gallows. For that reason, Lord Sidmouth cannot afford to let him live. I suspect one morning, quite soon, his jailor will find the prisoner hanging in his cell, and they’ll swear it was done by his own hand.”

  CHAPTER 36

  AIDAN

  The reception and dinner at Captain Kenedy’s house had all been a ruse to catch Sir Rupert in his own web. The actual meeting between Cinaed and the duke took place in the admiral’s stateroom of His Majesty’s ship William & Mary, docked at the north end of Merkinch Wharf, near the mouth of the unfinished canal.

  Aidan boarded the vessel behind Cinaed, Niall Campbell, and a dozen Mackintosh fighters, who remained on deck trading glares with the ship’s marines. Aidan believed that each side was operating in good faith, however, and that no danger would befall anyone. Happily, everything proceeded according to plan.

  Cinaed and the duke were both men who possessed strong personalities. As a result, the discussion comprised as many disagreements as agreements. But in the end, the two of them reached a place of mutual respect and understanding. Promises of communication and support followed. They each walked away with the belief that when and if this son of George III were to become the monarch of the Great Britain and Ireland, both men would remember this meeting and abide by their promises.

  It was with a sense of elation that they all went ashore hours later.

  Cinaed and Niall and most of the men were returning immediately to Dalmigavie. Aidan was to wait at Searc’s house until his wife returned from her visit with Madame Laborde.

  The day after Sir Rupert’s arrest, the artist had moved back to Barn Hill with Aidan’s promise that financial arrangements would be made for her once Burney’s trial was behind them. There could be no hint of impropriety between her and the Mackintosh clan. She would testify that she’d conveyed a number of rumors that she’d heard. She would admit that what she said may have induced Sir Rupert Burney to hire men to attempt an assassination on the duke. But she had no part in any such plan of his. And it would be clear to any jury that the spymaster would have benefited, regardless of the outcome.

  They were standing on the pier, preparing to mount their horses when they saw Blair galloping toward them from Inverness.

  “Burney has escaped,” he told them as he reined in his steed. “They were taking the rogue to Fort George. The prison wagon was attacked before they even got out of the city. He’s gone.”

  Aidan immediately thought of Morrigan. She’d taken a carriage to Barn Hill with two Mackintosh escorts, in addition to the driver. That should be the last place Sir Rupert would go, but he had to be certain.

  Cinaed and Niall began to ask Blair what else he knew, but Aidan couldn’t wait. Leaping onto his horse, he told them he was going after his wife.

  CHAPTER 37

  MORRIGAN

  The enormous house on Huntly Street had been locked since the day after Sir Rupert’s arrest. The servants were dismissed. His clerk and his henchmen had disappeared. Morrigan followed Madame Laborde out of the carriage. A frigid wind was whipping up the icy waters of the River Ness, and she promised the driver that they wouldn’t be long.

  The two Mackintosh fighters walked them to the door.

  “The key is here somewhere.” The artist searched the bottom of a large quilted bag she used for carrying her supplies around.

  Morrigan had come along in hopes of finding her father’s letter. Aidan said it didn’t matter. She agreed. Still, the opportunity had presented itself when Madame Laborde mentioned that she wished to go back to the house and collect the rest of her things. Sir Rupert never returned to Huntly Street after the arrest. He’d had no chance to secure his papers or give them to someone else. That meant her father’s letter could still be here.

  “I found it.” The key slid into the old lock, and the Mackintosh men went inside the house ahead of the women.

  All was quiet inside. And cold. No fires had been lit inside these walls for three days. The windows rattled in their sills and a whistling moan came from the chimney in the drawing room.

  “I’ll go upstairs for my things.” The artist pointed out a door to the right. “That is his study. I believe that would be the place to look.”

  One of the escorts walked into the study and looked around. She waited in the hall until he made sure no one was inside. He nodded to her that she could go in.

  The study was furnished with a large table, a secretary’s desk by a window, and chairs. Bookcases lined two walls. A cabinet with diamond-shaped openings for maps and scrolls stood empty. She pushed some papers around on the desk and opened drawers. Nothing caught her attention, and she began to wonder if his clerk had been here, after all. Or perhaps he had another office. Niall told her that in Glasgow, Burney had taken over offices in the City Chambers in the Saltmarket.

  Morrigan recalled what Wemys told her. Burney kept secrets on everyone. All his spies and agents. All the people who worked for him. And anyone else he co
uld use or manipulate. Looking around the room, she tried to think how he would keep this information close at hand. Perhaps there was a ledger that would lead her elsewhere.

  As she stood thinking, she heard Madam Laborde call from upstairs that she needed help carrying a trunk downstairs. Footsteps moved away down the hall.

  The volumes on the bookshelves were different sizes, and, from the coating of dust, many appeared to have been here for quite some time. She pulled out books that seemed to have been moved more recently. Working steadily, she went through them and looked behind the rows. Nothing.

  As she was sliding items on the bookshelves of an inner wall, the wooden case moved slightly. She pulled at it, and the entire case began to swing toward her. A hidden closet. Of course. Searc said this house belonged to an old smuggler.

  The bookcase groaned a little but swung open smoothly. Morrigan peered in. Shelves lined the opposite wall, and they were filled with books and ledgers and packets of papers tied with black ribbon and stacked neatly in rows. A metal cash box sat on a small desk and a large leather satchel filled with ledgers and papers was propped open beside it.

  She stepped into the space and reached for the bag. She didn’t get far. The keen edge of a knife pressed against her throat. She tried to twist to deliver a blow to the man standing behind her, but the jerk of his fist in her hair and bite of the blade stopped her.

  “Mrs. Grant. How gratifying to find you here.”

  Sir Rupert Burney stood behind her. The bookcase swung shut.

  CHAPTER 38

  Mrs. Goddard’s news that Morrigan had accompanied Madame Laborde to Huntly Street went through Aidan’s chest like a hussar’s blade.

  As the hooves of his steed pounded along the lane and through the deserted cattle market toward Castle Hill and the bridge, he kept trying to convince himself that nothing was wrong. She wasn’t alone. The women had two Mackintosh men with them. Nothing said that Burney would return to a house that was assuredly locked up by the authorities.