Page 21 of By Any Other Name

They had spent the last two days trying to discover Daniel’s whereabouts. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Gregory still had not the slightest idea where Daniel Campbell had gone. He was beginning to acquire Rylla’s uneasy feeling about the young man.

Gregory was living on little sleep. He spent half the night tromping about the gambling haunts of Edinburgh and most of the day looking for Daniel. However, the search was not the real reason behind his weariness. No, both insomnia and frayed nerves were due to one thing: Rylla Campbell.

The woman tormented him. He had sworn not to take advantage of her. Each night she gave her safety and her reputation into his hands; he could not betray that trust by luring her into his bed. He had not kissed her or caressed her or taken her into his arms—even when they ended their evenings in front of his fireplace, discussing their investigation. But as a result of his chivalrous behavior, he spent all his time with her balanced on a knife-edge of desire.

He should not take her to his rooms to talk after they left the gambling dens. Being alone with her, only feet from his bedroom, was far too tempting. But he hadn’t the strength to deny himself. This slice of time was all he could have of her. During his afternoon calls at her house, they were in the company of Andrew and Eleanor and Rylla’s mother, unable to speak except in the most stilted and commonplace of ways.

Only alone in his rooms could he revel in talking to her, being with her, able to watch her smile and the animation in her face as she talked. During those quiet moments, everything inside him rushed out to her. He found himself telling her about himself, his father, his house, his family, his doubts and hopes, even his darkest secrets. He was even more eager to hear everything about her.

But those precious hours were also the most tantalizing, restless, unfulfilled, nerve-wracking times he could imagine. He seemed a stranger to himself. He was filled with conflicting desires to take Rylla to his bed and satisfy the profound lust that surged in him, yet at the same time he wanted to protect her and please her. To know her.

Gregory straightened now as he caught sight of Rylla slipping from the shadows around her house. Happiness and a certain pride of possession surged in him as she strode toward him, smiling. She was without equal. And she was his.

He went forward to meet her, careful not to touch her. Even offering her his arm would look odd, given her disguise. Gregory had discovered these past days how many small things could reveal that Rylla was a woman beneath those clothes. He had taken to keeping his hands thrust into his pockets whenever he was around her, just to make sure he did not touch her. The most difficult thing to control was the way he looked at her—to hide the delight, the desire, the affection that he suspected shone from his eyes.

They chatted as they walked, but Gregory kept alert. They had already made the rounds of the better places young men went to gamble. Tonight would be a long step down, one he was reluctant to make with Rylla along. He was glad she had brought her brother’s cane with her. It would at least give her a weapon should they run into trouble. Gregory had enough of the Highlander in him that he had shoved his sgian dubh into the top of his boot for their expedition.

They went from one club to another, each one seedier than the last, and Gregory grew increasingly more concerned. When they stepped into another smoke-filled room, Gregory took one look around and shook his head.

“We should leave.” He turned, but Rylla grabbed his arm.

“Gregory!” she hissed. “What are you doing? This is precisely the sort of place we should look.”

“If we want to get taken up by a press gang, perhaps.”

“You can’t expect to find sharps and ivory turners in the finest establishments.” Rylla adopted her young-man-about-town stance, feet planted sturdily apart and arms crossed. Deepening her voice and raising the volume, she tossed out cant in a bored, world-weary drawl. “I’ve a taste tonight for a bit of blue ruin.”

Looking at her, Gregory wanted to laugh, pull her into his arms for a kiss, and shake her, all at the same time. None of them would be a wise thing to do. “This isn’t even a club. It’s a tavern.”

“That may be, but I’d guess those chaps over there are casting dice.”

He leaned closer, whispering, “This is not the sort of place you should be.”

She sent him a flashing look. “Don’t tell me you’re going to become a prig now.”

“I’m not being a prig. But I am not certain I could adequately keep you safe. I’ll warrant that fellow just rode in from stopping mail coaches. And what about the one in that red cap? He looks like he’s sizing up where to put the knife in his companion.”

Rylla glanced over. “You might have a point. Look, there’s a little table in the corner. It’s dark and protected on two sides. We could easily sit there and watch without getting into any trouble. I promise I won’t even talk to anyone. You can get our drinks, and I’ll stay right there. Word of a gentleman.”

Gregory had to chuckle. “Oh, devil take it, very well. Follow me. And don’t look anyone in the face. You are far too pretty, even as a lad.”

He led her to the table in question, and Rylla sat down, wedging her stool into the corner. Gregory cast a look back at her, then made his way through the crowded room to the bar. He waited for his glasses of ale and pondered whether he should transfer his sgian dubh from his boot top to one of the pockets of his greatcoat. Just as he picked up the filled mugs, all hell broke loose behind him.

♦ ♦ ♦

Rylla had every intention of remaining quietly in the corner, observing the patrons of the tavern. She had enjoyed the past evenings far too much to endanger their easy camaraderie. Gregory was so pleasant and easy to be with, seemingly entertained by her independent attitude and unconventional ways instead of annoyed and restrictive. Even as worried as she was about her brother, she had thoroughly enjoyed their outings.

It would all have been almost perfect, really, if only Gregory had given the slightest indication that he wanted to kiss her again as he had the other night. Why, she wondered, did he not make even the slightest advances toward her? Had her free and easy ways killed his desire for her?

With a sigh, Rylla pulled her mind back from those unladylike thoughts and returned to studying the other patrons of the tavern. They were indeed a rough-looking lot. Even without Gregory’s insistence that she stay in the corner, she would not have wanted to venture from this sheltered spot. She liked a little adventure in her life, but she was no fool.

Rylla stiffened suddenly and peered through the smoky haze at a customer sitting a few tables over. He lifted a large mug to his mouth and drank deeply, then thunked it back down onto the table and wiped his mouth. She watched as he talked to the man across from him. When he laughed, Rylla was certain. It was Kerns, the man who had come to their house looking for Daniel.

She turned toward the long bar where Gregory stood. He was scanning the room, watching for possible dangers. She fixed her gaze on him, willing him to look at her, but he swung back to the barkeep, reaching into one of his pockets to pay the man.

Kerns stood up, shoving back his stool, and nodded to his companion. He started for the door. He was leaving!

Rylla jumped to her feet, picking up her cane, and hurried toward Gregory. Just as she edged around a table, a large man staggered into her, knocking her into one of the men seated at the table. The top of the cane she carried struck the man smartly atop the head. He bellowed and jumped up, shoving Rylla away. She stumbled back, falling into another man behind her. Feeling rather like a ball that was being bounced around, Rylla straightened just as a meaty fist came flying at her nose.