"Promise you'll tell no one?" she asked, the vulnerability coming back full force into her eyes.
"Aye. Of course."
"Over fifty-thousand pounds," she said in a small voice, her face tensing with anxiety.
"'Slud. Even after you sold everything?"
"Aye. As you know, I've been paying him a small amount each week, but 'tis not enough. He's already wealthy. I don't think he even cares about the money. He wants…" She bit her lip and dropped her gaze.
"You?"
She nodded. "The lust in his eyes was clear the first time we met. I thought he was going to drool."
"The bastard." Maybe Rebbie would call him out to a duel and kill him.'Twasnaught more than he deserved.
Frowning, Rebbie growled a curse and rolled out of the bed and onto his feet. He went to the fireplace and added two pieces of wood. He had to help her. Nay, hewantedto help her. She had no one else to fight for her, to support her. And to him, she was… an angel. Perfection. No one had ever touched him the way she did, not just his body but his soul.
He returned to the bed and slid between the sheets. She'd covered herself with the linen sheet and wool blanket, and he pulled them to his waist. "I'll meet with the bastard and pay him off. I'll also tell him to stay the hell away from you or he'll find his throat slit."
She shook her head. "Nay, I can't let you do that, Rebbie."
"Why not?"
"'Tisa lot of money. I have no inkling how I would ever repay it. My position as companion to Elena does not pay very well."
"I'm not concerned about that. I simply want the whoreson to leave you alone. You've done naught to deserve such savage treatment."
"I thank you but I cannot take the money. 'Twouldmake me feel cheap like a—"
"Nonsense," he muttered, not liking the direction of her thoughts. "It has naught to do with what we just shared in this bed.'Tissimply that I have money and you need some of it."
She frowned. "Is such a large amount naught to you?"
He shrugged. In truth, the amount wouldn't put a strain on him, but to say so would make him seem like a snobbish swine. "Silver is of little use sitting in a treasury.'Tistime some of it was used." He'd spent very little. He was glad the money was there when he needed it, but he wasn't a spendthrift. His only vice was fine horses, and he had but one of those at the moment, though he intended to buy plenty more.
"You are mad," she muttered.
"Aye, likely I am. And about the paid companion position, it gores me to think about you having to work.'Tisnot right. Your husband should've been dirked."
"He was."
"What? You didn't tell me this."
"Aye." A dark shadow passed behind her eyes. "Stanbury was found stabbed and robbed in Edinburgh. In a bad part of town."
Rebbie frowned, fear for her goring him. "Claybourne did it, aye?" She could've so easily landed in the lap of a murderer.
"It crossed my mind, but I have no proof."
He hoped she hadn't been with him at the time. "Were you in Edinburgh when it happened?"
"Nay. I was at home."
"Did Claybourne contact you after that?"
"About a month later, he came calling for the remainder of what he said was owed him. He showed me a paper supposedly signed by my husband. I couldn't tell if 'twas really his signature. The seal from his ring was stamped on it in wax."
"Claybourne could've done that after he killed him."
