Page 22 of Bloodlines and Birthright

“You can’t,” Oscar said.

“You know I can be of assistance. Please don’t walk into a dangerous situation alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Gavin will be with me.” Oscar placed his hand over hers as it rested on his sleeve. His thumb caressed her knuckles before he unceremoniously plucked off her hand.

“You can trust me,” she went on. “If you’re putting yourself in danger to get the book, then I’ll not try to take it from you if you’ll just allow me to help. You know I’m a woman of my word. I gave the Mackenzie book back to you in Edinburgh, didn’t I?”

“After you’d read the relevant passage,” I reminded her.

I might as well not have spoken. Her attention was focused entirely on Oscar, and his on her.

He gave her a sad smile. “As nice as it feels to know you’re worrying about me, it’s not necessary. We’ll be all right, Adele.”

Her jaw firmed. “It’s Miss Wheeler to you.” She opened her parasol too close to his face, forcing him to sway back or be smacked. She settled it above her head and strode off.

Oscar and I watched her leave. “A third person could have been helpful,” I told him.

He agreed with a sigh. “Particularly one as capable as her. But I will not place her in danger.” He set off, his pace slower than hers. “Nor do I want to put you in danger, Gavin. I think you should stay at the hotel. You can keep an eye on Miss Wheeler to make sure she doesn’t try to follow me tonight.”

“I’m coming with you and that’s final.” After a moment, I added, “Do you think she’ll try to follow us?”

His lips quirked with his wry grin. “Undoubtedly.”

“Because she wants the book?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. When he finally did, his voice was full of admiration. “I don’t think she cares a whit about the book. I think she wants to join us for one of two reasons. Either she simply enjoys adventure and doesn’t want to be left out.”

“You make her sound like Willie,” I said.

“Only much prettier and far less annoying.”

“And the second reason you think she wants to join us?” I prompted.

“Because she can’t stay away from us.”

Despite the unease churning in my gut, I laughed. Then I realized he wasn’t joking. I spent the rest of the walk back to the hotel wondering if he knew women at all, because I’d not seen a single sign in Miss Wheeler’s actions that spoke of her enjoying our company. Oscar usually understood women, but in this instance, he was wide of the mark.

Chapter 8

With our burglary planned for that night, we had the rest of the day to fill while trying to avoid Mr. Defoe. There is only so much sightseeing to do in a small village, so we’d returned to the hotel by teatime.

Unfortunately, Mr. Defoe and Miss Wheeler were also seated in the shade on the terrace. The American signaled to us to join them.

“Pretend you didn’t see,” I whispered to Oscar.

Oscar had no intention of avoiding them, however. I suspected Miss Wheeler was the reason for that, not her employer. He gave a shallow bow, pulled out another chair, and sat.

“Good afternoon,” he said cheerfully. “What a pleasant day.”

“It’s too hot,” Mr. Defoe grumbled. He squinted up at me, still standing. “Sit down, Professor. You’re making my neck ache.”

I sat. “How do you do. Are you enjoying the sights of Monteoro?”

“The sights don’t interest us, as you well know.”

“Speak for yourself,” Miss Wheeler said. “Lake Como is magical, and this village one of the prettiest I’ve seen.” She may be his employee, but sometimes she spoke to him with a directness that implied there was something more personal between them. Whatever it was, I knew she wasn’t his mistress. She’d said as much, and I believed her.

“I bow to your judgement on these things, Adele. You have seen a great many villages from all corners of the world.”