Seducing the Ruthless Rogue Page 9

  He pulled away, and she whimpered at the loss of his caressing mouth. Then she felt his lips dropping kisses on her closed eyes, her nose, and her swollen lips. He trailed gentle kisses along her jaw and then down the straining tendons of her delicate neck. Mack laved the spot where her neck and shoulder met, causing her to shiver in excitement.

  “And that, Cassie darlin’, is lesson one.”

  “Lesson one?” she asked dumbfounded.

  “Aye,” he replied, dropping a clinging kiss to her lips.

  Cassie blinked her eyes, clearing them of their romantic haze. She studied the man in front of her. He looked confident, cocky. Anger raced through her veins, pushing out any lustful twinges that remained. She vaguely felt his thumb caressing her cheek. He was coming towards her for another kiss. Cassie slipped her hands down to his chest and pushed hard, but he was strong, and she was still trapped against him. She recalled how easily she felled him when she had struck him in the ribs that first time. Taking no chances, she brought back her hands and slammed them into both sets of ribs, not wanting to risk missing his tender area.

  He gasped and she felt his grip slacken. She slipped free.

  “How dare you?!” she confronted him. “I am not some toy for you to play with. When I want to be seduced it will be by the man of my choice, and more likely than not, my husband. I will see you in the morning, Director McKenzie.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere without me,” he grunted and reached out for her arm.

  “I really didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice,” she calmly replied. Cassie lifted her hand in the air and brought it down just where his neck joined his shoulder. When he had kissed her there, tremors had raced through her body. When her hand made contact with that same spot, it caused him to hit the floor, unconscious. “Sleep well, Mack,” she whispered before slipping out of the study.

  A half hour later, Cassie slipped into her window, not caring if she was seen by Mack’s guards or not. She pushed down the window, locked it, and flicked the curtain into place. The room fell dark. The smell of rain filled the room, and she inhaled deeply, letting it soothe her senses. Cassie pulled off her clothes and dropped them on the floor in a heap, then slipped between her bedsheets, nude. Her skin felt sensitized and overheated. Her lips still tingled and felt swollen.

  Cassie flipped over onto her stomach and punched the pillow into shape. Then she flopped over once more, her cheek cradled on the pillow. Anger still coursed through her at his arrogant attitude. What is the matter with you? her inner self demanded. He practically treated you like a harlot.

  “I know,” she moaned softly. “But those few moments, those few kisses, they were indescribable.” She tossed and turned for a while longer before she finally gave up trying to sleep. Cassie stood and crossed the room. She pulled on her nightgown and robe, grabbed her portfolio and left the room for the study. After lighting a lamp, she sat at the desk and rewrote the scene she had torn to shreds earlier. When Cassie arrived at the pivotal scene and had to describe the man once again, the only image that came to mind was Mack, and she found her body heating up once more.

  ***

  Cassie twisted her hair into a tidy knot when a knock sounded on the front door and echoed into her bedroom. All of a sudden her hands began to tremble and her hair slipped free and tumbled down her back. She braced her hands on the dresser and looked into the mirror. “Get yourself together,” she scolded.

  She vigorously twisted her hair once more and viciously jabbed pins in it to hold it in place. There was a knock on her door. “Coming,” she called out.

  “Director McKenzie here,” Chang said, sounding subdued.

  “I’ll be right there.” Even though she had apologized, she knew Chang’s feeling were still hurt at her callousness.

  “Bring the hourglass and note,” Mack barked the order from downstairs.

  “Did I hear a please with that, Director McKenzie?” she called back.

  “If you did, perhaps I should have my hearing checked.”

  “Stubborn, irritating Scotsman,” she muttered under her breath. She slammed her hat on her head and jabbed a hat pin in, drawing blood on the first attempt. “Do not let him get to you,” she coached. Once more she put the pin into her hat, this time with success. Cassie picked up her reticule, note, and hourglass then left the room. “Here, Director McKenzie,” she slammed the note and hourglass into his chest. Their hands touched briefly sending sparks up her arms. When he took the items, she jerked her gloves on silently cursing herself for not doing it earlier.

  “Don’t you ever wear anything besides that old dress or those black pant suits?”

  “That, Director McKenzie, is none of your concern.” She watched him read the note and then turn the hourglass every way possible. He studied one of the bases intently.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “None of your concern,” he threw back at her.

  “I hate you,” she muttered.

  “I know that to be not true,” he chuckled.

  “How dare you bring that up? You rotten, despicable, ruthless…”

  “Yes?” he prodded.

  “Rogue!”

  “Is that the best you can do?” He clucked his tongue. “Shall we get your father back or would you prefer to play this current game you are engaging me in?”

  “Let’s find my father,” she forced the words out.

  “After you,” he held out his arm for her to leave the house first. “Mr. Chang, I will be bringing both Sir Graham and Miss Graham back this afternoon. Ready his room.”

  “Yes, Director McKenzie,” the smaller man bowed repeatedly, his face lighting up.

  While Mack waved two of his men over and gave them each separate directions, Cassie spoke quietly to Chang.

  “Chang, please deliver the package on the desk for me first.”

  “Yes, Missy Cassie.”

  She climbed into the waiting hack. She watched the two guards quickly mount their horses and ride in opposite directions.

  “Now we can leave,” he joined her in the hack. “You don’t look as if you slept very well last night,” he observed as the carriage lurched into motion.

  “I slept fine. I think the better question is how did you sleep?” she snidely asked.

  “Amazing.” He wickedly grinned at her. “Went to sleep just like that,” he said and snapped his fingers.

  She ignored him and looked out the window.

  “You deserve to be dressed in satins and silks and adorned with jewels,” he said.

  “Not as long as there are starving women and children that could benefit from the money instead,” she argued. “Where are we going?”

  “The Horseguards.”

  “The War Office?”

  “Yes.”

  They traveled the rest of the way in silence. Cassie attempted to piece together the puzzle. She looked at the hourglass that Mack twisted in his hand. Why could she not think of him as anything other than Mack now? She reached across and jerked the hourglass out of his hand. She looked at first one end and then the other before she spied the initials engraved. A P in the center with a B and an E on either side. The letters were lavish. What did this mean?

  There were two men in Mack’s office with the last name that began with P. Mr. Preston, the kindly secretary was one. Had he been responsible for the disappearance of her father? He seemed so very kind and understanding when she arrived at the office every Monday. Then there was Director Presley. He seemed a nice man. In fact, she thought him very fatherly. Surely it could not be him.

  “Satisfied?” Mack queried, holding out his hand.

  She placed the hourglass back in his hand. “Not really. Who do you suspect, Mr. Preston or Director Presley?”

  “I believe I’ll let you wait and see,” he smugly responded and settled into the corner.

  “I have a right to know,” she demanded.

  He only responded by smiling, irritating her greatly.


  Chapter 8

  The carriage rattled to a stop, and Cassie started to spring free until Mack’s outstretched arm stopped her.

  “The gentleman always assists the lady.”

  “I’m sorry, but is there a gentleman present?” she coyly asked.

  “One of these days, Cassie darlin’, that sharp tongue of yours is going to get you into more trouble than you can cope with.”

  “I doubt that, but on the off chance that it does, I will be sure to seek counsel from someone other than you, Director McKenzie.”

  “We’ll see,” he purred, his brogue rolling over her body like a gentle caress. “Miss Graham?” He was standing on the ground, holding his hand up to her.

  “Thank you,” she said, cursing the huskiness that had entered her voice. She placed her hand in his and stepped lightly from the carriage.

  “My pleasure,” he grinned. “Now shall we find out where your father is?”

  “Yes,” she brought herself back under control and followed Mack as he entered the building. As she walked behind him, she found herself eyeing the broad sweep of his shoulders and the way his jacket showcased the strength of his back and the narrowness of his hips. Then they were climbing the stairs and his posterior was at eye level. His breeches were form fitting, and…

  “Enjoying the view?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “You are disgusting and highly inappropriate,” she hissed.

  “Aye, but why are ye breathin’ faster?”

  “The stairs,” she lied.

  “Keep lyin’ to yourself, Cassie darlin’,” Mack drawled as she stepped next to him, both of them having reached the top of the stairs.

  “You, Director McKenzie, are not allowed to be so personal in addressing me. I have not given you permission, nor will I.”

  “Have you already forgotten last night, Cassie darlin’,” he whispered so that the other men traipsing up the stairs could not hear them.

  “And if you will recall, I never once said you could call me by my Christian name.”

  “No, you were to busy doing other things,” he teased wickedly.

  “Ugh!” she growled then turned and crossed the short distance to the Director of the War Office’s personal office. “Good morning, Mr. Preston,” Cassie said, determination ringing from her voice.

  “Miss Graham, whatever are you doing here? It isn’t Monday.”

  “No, it isn’t, Mr. Preston.”

  “Preston, is Presley in?” Mack asked.

  “Yes, sir. I will let him know you are here.” He tried to scamper around the desk to do his job, but Mack halted his progress.

  “No need, we will announce ourselves.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mack opened the door and it banged against the wall. “Good morning, Presley.”

  “Mack, what are you doing here? You were ordered to stay away until you completely healed.”

  “Aye. I find that I’m feeling much better. Miss Graham, won’t you have a seat?” Mack indicated a chair, set off in the corner.

  Cassie took the proffered seat, feeling as if she were sitting down to watch a dramatic play unfold. She watched as the men squared off against one another, Presley behind the desk and Mack on the other side. He looked out of place on this side. He belonged behind the desk, making decisions, and giving orders. She could not imagine him any other place, not even the wilds of Scotland, where he most surely came from.

  “Now, Presley, I want some answers. I want to know where Miss Graham’s father is. I want to know what your plan was, and I want to know why,” Mack calmly demanded.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other man blustered.

  “I’m not playing games with you, Presley, we are all a little too old for that. I suggest you start talking.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Director Presley, my father…” Cassie halted when she saw Mack hold his hand up to her.

  “Miss Graham, I will take care of this. I have proof that you are the responsible party, Presley. It was very sloppy on your part.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It seems that last night someone snuck into Miss Graham’s house and left her two things. One was a handwritten note, and the second was an hourglass.”

  “Please, get to your point quickly. I have a meeting with Bathurst and Liverpool within the hour.”

  “By all means, I would be happy to accommodate you. The note was typical, threatening and no name left behind. The hourglass, however, told a different story.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aye. You see, on one of the bases, there are initials engraved into it,” he reached into his pocket and pulled the hourglass free. “Yes, right here--B, E, and P. Correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t your father’s name Bradford Edward Presley, Viscount Presley?”

  “You’re accusing my father of being behind this?”

  “Come now, Presley. Your father is well into his seventies and suffers ill health. I very much doubt he can do more than read the news before he is crawling back into his bed. If I remember correctly, your family moved into his house not very long ago.”

  “And your point is?”

  “Are you truly going to make me say it aloud, Presley?”

  There were clearing throats and shuffling feet in the outer office. Cassie watched as Presley’s eyes widened and his body stiffened. Then in a matter of seconds he collapsed into the director’s chair, his head in his hands, and he was crying like a child.

  “I am in debt, gambling. The Frenchman, Pierre Badeaux bought my vowels, and father would not give me a loan. He said that I was a man grown and had gotten myself into this mess and could bloody well get myself out of it. Badeaux is really a French sympathizer and spy working his way among the ton. They knew there had to be maps indicating strategies and battle plans. Badeaux approached me, knew I had done some work for the government…”

  “And offered you the opportunity to not only get your vowels back, but I am guessing also offered additional compensation.”

  “I have twin daughters, both making their debut this year. I am desperate. They have no dowry because of my reckless spending. My eldest is already promised in marriage and the knave will not allow me to retract my agreement. I had to see that they were taken care of.”

  “So you thought to endanger the life not only of me and Sir Graham, but also his daughter and thousands of men fighting in this bloody war?”

  “I was desperate.”

  “Thousands of men,” Mack growled, planting his fists on the desk and leaning over it. “Where can Badeaux be found?”

  “I don’t know. We were set to meet in Green Park tomorrow at three. I am to bring the maps and he is to bring my vowels, the money, and Sir Graham.”

  “Did you just hear yourself?” Cassie spoke for the first time, anger rushing through her body. “Did you?” she demanded. She stood and approached the desk. “Even now, with your life crumbling around you, you put more emphasis on your debts and your money than you do on human life. Your daughters are better off without you in their lives,” she finished and left the room. She found herself fighting her way through a throng of men in the outer office before she reached the stairs. Cassie rushed down the staircase and outside where the sun showed weakly through the clouds.

  Her body vibrated with excess energy. If she were home, she would beg Chang to meet her in the garden so they could work on her fighting skills. Instead, she stood on a busy London street with people bustling everywhere. She wanted to lean back her head and scream out her anger at the sky, but people would look at her as if she had escaped Bedlam. She paced from one end of the building to the other. After her third circuit, she felt someone following her. She did not know how she knew it was Mack, she just did, and she felt comforted by his presence. That thought brought her up short, and she felt him run into her. He grabbed her arms to help her keep her balance.

  “Are you all right?” he queried.

  “I do
n’t know,” she shook her head. “I just cannot believe he would put money above the price of human life.”

  “He isn’t alone.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “Tomorrow he will keep the appointment as scheduled. I have men watching him to make certain he does not try to leave. We will retrieve your father and capture Badeaux. Presley will be arrested and tried for treason and most likely will hang.”

  Cassie paced before she turned and faced Mack. His eyes were mesmerizing and she found she had to shake herself to return to the present. “I want to break the news to his family.”

  “That is for Liverpool or Bathurst to do.”

  “I need to do this.”

  “Why? To enact your own type of revenge?”

  “You think me that callous?” she demanded, her hands firmly on her hips and her head cocked. “Don’t answer, because I can see it in your eyes.”

  “It is what I would do,” he answered.

  “Well, thank heavens we all aren’t you, Director McKenzie.”

  “Then what is your reason, Cassie?”

  She started to answer, and then found herself considering her answer. Was he right? Did she want to be the one to tell them about their father to hurt them as he had hurt her? She found she could not come up with a truthful answer.

  “At least allow me to go with whoever tells them.”

  “Why? Do you want to see their reaction? Do you want to see if they suspected all along? Do you want to know if they were part of the plot?”

  “Yes!” she countered. “Are you happy? I want to see their faces, study their reactions. I want to know if their behavior caused him to gamble in order to make more money because they weren’t satisfied with what they had. I want to know if they are as much to blame as he is. Are you satisfied?”

  “Yes, because now I know that you have normal feelings and reactions.”

  “I hate myself for feeling that way,” she muttered, defeated. “My life’s ambition is to help people, not cause them harm.”