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He shrugged. “So?”

“So, your father will be preoccupied with guests. That’s when we can go into his study.”

“We? You and I—we?”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

Ian paused and ran through their brief conversation in his mind, to make certain he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. “And how is that plan better?”

“Because, my dear spy,” she said as she came closer and put her palm against his chest. “I will be right there beside you. I can be on the lookout. And if someone catches us, we can pretend that we snuck away for a tryst.”

Ian let out a chuckle. “Why, Mrs. St. John, you’re quite wicked.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Nobody has ever called me that.”

He brushed a lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Nobody has ever known you the way I do.”

She hid her face but didn’t take her hand away from his chest. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. She raised her eyes and watched him as he kissed her knuckles one by one. “I suppose you bring out the wicked in me,” she said with a burning gaze.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He dropped her hand and nudged her chin playfully. “You do realize that if we appear at the ball tomorrow together as man and wife, there is no going back?”

She shrugged. “We can figure it out later. It’s not like my reputation matters.”

“You won’t be able to marry anyone else,” Ian insisted.

There was a pause. “I am not looking to marry, Ian.”

She was so insistent on that fact that it made him numb. No, it wasn’t the words that made the chill run up his spine, it was the conviction in her eyes. There was something odd about the way Helen threw herself into this affair head first, not even counting the fact that she had visited a brothel!

Something was off about all their interactions, but he couldn’t quite figure out what.

Later, he told himself. He would dwell on it later.

He would solve the puzzle that was Mrs. Helen St. John. For now, he had other things to worry about.

Helen might not love him, but she did want him. And that already made him one step closer to the truth, and one step closer to his goal of claiming her as his forever.

So he would take his time. He would chip away at her defenses little by little, convincing her that she was better off with him in her life than without.

“Still, after tonight, you will be officially mine,” he said playfully.

A smile of pure joy appeared on her face before she could control her emotions. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his chin. “I am already yours.”

* * *

Helen waited nervously for Ian to enter and take her to the ballroom.

She was the one who’d insisted on attending the ball. She was the one who’d forced him to include her in the plan of extracting information from the earl’s study. But now that the time had actually come, she was anxious out of her wits.

She wanted adventure, she reminded herself. And she would get it with the most handsome lord by her side.

Just then the adjoining door to her room opened and Ian walked in with a lazy grin on his lips.

Helen caught her breath as her heart fluttered with excitement. If she’d thought Ian handsome before, if she thought him appealing and charming, now that was multiplied tenfold.

His hair lay gently against his shoulders, curling just slightly at the base. His eyes were bright, sparkling green, like two gems shining amidst his tanned skin. The way he looked at her with those eyes made her heart skip a beat.

He was dressed in formal attire, a coat, a waistcoat, and a cravat, all as per usual. But what caught Helen’s attention most was the kilt he wore instead of breeches. It was fastened by a belt with a buckle adorned with the McAllistair family crest and a sporran, a small pouch around his waist completed the ensemble.