Page 387 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Eighteen

Lying on his stomach, Iain began drifting into a peaceful sleep when Victoria broke the quiet. “My lord?” He grunted.

“I do not jest about Katherine remaining here.”

He opened an eye. “You believe Hockley will allow it?”

“He might be convinced.”

“If you mean by killing him, I am agreeable.”

“Killing him?”

Something in the quick reply roused him in a way he didn’t like, and Iain rose and crossed to the hearth.

“You cannot be serious?” she asked.

“I will do what must be done. But tell me,” he reached for the poker leaning against the fireplace,

“what have you in mind?”

“We must be crafty.”

Iain faced her. She was on her knees, sheet clutched to her breast. Her eyes fell to his naked groin and she yanked them back up to his face, cheeks red.

He pulsed, but ignored the sensation. “What would you know of craftiness?”

“Only that we cannot ask Edwin if she can stay.

He would see it as…”

“Weakness?” Iain faced the hearth.

“Aye. He knows I care for her. So, to act otherwise would create suspicion. However, with the right incentive, he may agree.”

Iain tossed another log on the fire and poked at the embers. “What sort of incentive could I possibly offer Hockley?”

“Not you. Me.”

“You?” Iain turned and leaned on the poker. “What have you to give? Everything you have belongs to me.”

“True,” she answered with a freezing civility that should have made him regret the words, but didn’t.

“But what use have you of property in England?”

“Property?”

“The one-third of Richard’s holdings I received as inheritance after his death.”

Here was the reason King Henry wanted his countess back in England. He wouldn’t countenance English land falling into the hands of a Highlander. Neither would Hockley. Though neither he nor his king could have known of Iain’s plans to marry her. Iain studied his wife. Only one person could have given any clues to her whereabouts. Who did she inform of her plans before she left England?

“Well, my lord,” she pressed.

“The girl means that much to you?” he asked.

A shadow crept across her features. “She has little hope of happiness with Edwin.”

As little hope as his wife would have had? Here was the chance to show her he was nothing like Hockley or her dead husband. “Do as you wish,” he said.