Page 1 of Deception of a Highlander

CHAPTER 1

London

January 1604

The drug had taken effect. Mariel Brandon caught the young earl as he slumped forward in a state of unnatural relaxation and eased him back against the lush velvet settee. A familiar ache tightened in her chest.

Aaron was wrong. She would never grow used to this.

The earl’s silk doublet was cool beneath her fingertips and far superior to the fraying skirts she wore.

She averted her gaze, unable to bear the weight of her own shame. He was younger than she had initially presumed. Not any more a man than she was a woman.

His face would haunt her dreams. As the ones before him already did.

Like all the others, he had fallen prey to her flirtation and allowed himself to be pulled into the private, sumptuous room in the bowels of Hampton Court Palace. The information he’d been entrusted with fell from his lips with a few kisses and a bared shoulder. The laudanum-laced wine kept her from having to make good on false promises.

A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. It was a reminder of why she did all this, of why she endured her lost morality, of why she let a part of herself die when she coaxed men’s secrets. And every time, she slid deeper into the shadows of sin.

Jack. Sweet, innocent Jack with laughing blue eyes and silky black hair. He was but a pawn in the cruel game Aaron played. They all were.

How many more men would she be forced to betray until her brother would be released? Until the threat on his life would dissipate, and she could be free from this hell?

She reached without thinking and brushed a dark curl from the earl’s brow. Forgive me.

“Are you growing sentimental?” A voice laced with sarcasm sounded from the shadows behind her.

The consuming odor of Aaron’s perfume filled her nostrils, and the familiar wave of nausea gripped her stomach. Mariel fought the flare of emotion that rose within her. The fear for what his presence represented and the hatred for what he had done. The helplessness he confined her to.

“Don’t be silly.” She let her hand fall to her side. “He’s just a boy.”

Aaron emerged from the dark corner of the room as she turned to face him. His breeches and jacket were midnight-blue velvet, far more subtle than his usual attire.

She gave him a coy smile and sauntered in his direction, playing the game that had been forced upon her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Revulsion threatened her composure as she pressed her lips to his dry, powdered cheek.

“I wanted to watch you work. I have to say, I’m most impressed.” He glanced to where the earl snored softly behind her. “How long will he be like that?”

“He will not wake until morning. And with a wicked headache, poor man.”

Aaron regarded her with obvious suspicion. “So long as he can never recognize you.”

Mariel pulled the heavy blonde wig from her hairline, revealing her black tresses beneath. The cool air was heavenly against her scalp. “He departs tomorrow.”

“And you never leave the house. I swear you are becoming a recluse, poppet. If you killed these men, you could be shopping and dancing like the rest of the girls.”

“You know what I want.” Keeping the malice from her voice was becoming more difficult as time went on.

“Yes, yes—your brother.” He rolled his eyes heavenward.

“He is not yet ten,” she added with great patience. “I haven’t been allowed to see him, and no one gives me word of his welfare. Have you given him my letters?” She pursed her lips to stop her desperate words. Aaron would only use them against her.

A slow smile curved his thin lips upward and raised the hairs on the back of Mariel’s neck.

“You will be most delighted with my news. I have one final job for you. The benefactor paid enough to cover the remainder of the fees you and your brother have accrued.”

Despite her wariness, her pulse raced at the prospect of their freedom. Never had she been offered the hope of immediate release. Mariel waited for him to continue, but a thick silence settled between them—no doubt intentional.

Aaron ran his gloved finger over the glossy top of a marble table beside him. “There’s a Scottish barbarian at court presently. You need to compel him with your…” His gaze slid down her body. “…Talents.” He rubbed his fingertips together with a look of disinterest. “You must discover the location of two people: Blair and Dougal Hampton. If you can’t do this, you must kill him.”