Cathy Maxwell - [Chattan Curse 03] by The Devils Heart Page B

something he knew—Marybone was nowhere close to the tower from which Rose Macnachtan was said to have jumped. She’d traveled to the wrong place.
    “You think I’m balmy, don’t you?” she said.
    The air changed between them. He felt her withdraw. The vulnerability left her and a mask seemed to cross her face. Right before his eyes, she became Lady Margaret Chattan, the Unattainable.
    “I need your help,” she said, the words stiff, as if she had to force them. He was certain she was not accustomed to asking for assistance.
    “What may I do for you, my lady?”
    “Fenella’s book may still be where you found the wreckage. Will you take me there? I shall pay you for the service.”
    “That is unnecessary—” Heath started to say, only for her to interrupt him.
    “Of course, it is. You are a Macnachtan and I am a Chattan. I’m beginning to realize that my talk of a curse sounds fantastic to you, but it is very real for me. Is a hundred pounds enough for the trip?”
    “A hundred?” Heath repeated, stunned by the amount.
    “Very well, two hundred,” she said, taking charge and putting him in his place.
    Heath’s pride bristled, but his common sense and the dire need to pay off the estate’s debts stepped in before he could refuse the money.
    Still, a man shouldn’t humble himself.
    “Three hundred pounds,” he answered.
    She blinked surprise and he felt a score of satisfaction. Her expressive eyes took on scorn. He met her gaze with a hard one of his own.
    “If I’m going to be bought, my lady, I will not go cheap.”
    There was a moment as she digested this and then she said, “Very well. When can we leave?”
    “Tomorrow, depending on your strength.”
    “Excellent.”
    “Then tomorrow it is. First light.”
    She nodded and took a step toward the door. “I shall be ready.” She studied him again and he saw her adjust her opinion of him. She had thought him safe.
    He wasn’t.
    “I would like to spend this evening at Rowan’s bedside,” she said.
    “You may.”
    She took several more steps and then stopped. “I don’t want you to think me ungrateful. I do appreciate all that you and your sisters have done. Is it possible on the morrow that I may pay respects to my servants?”
    “Of course. They are buried in the kirk yard. It is on the way.”
    “If there were any expenses—” she started, but Heath didn’t want to make the air more strained between them.
    “There were none, my lady.”
    “But the doctor for Rowan and myself?” she suggested.
    “You are my guests. I only charge for outlandish requests.”
    She frowned. “You believe we won’t find anything?”
    “I’m certain of it. We were thorough in our search, Lady Margaret. We collected everything we found around the accident. The book you are looking for was not there.”
    She placed her hand on the door handle. “I have a sense that you are wrong, my lord. My tale is unbelievable, and yet, you would be wise to believe.” With those words, she opened the door and almost walked right into Laren and Anice.
    His sisters attempted to pretend that they were not eavesdropping, but they were not good actresses.
    Even Dara was lingering in the hall.
    “Excuse me,” Lady Margaret murmured, and gracefully walked away.
    The women watched her go down the hall a moment before charging into the library. “You did tell us we could wait in the hall,” Anice said in defense to his unspoken accusation.
    “Yes, but not with your ears to the door,” Heath countered.
    “Did you believe what she was telling you?” Laren asked.
    “If I could write this for the papers in London, I would,” Anice said. “People would be very interested in the reasons for her trip here.”
    “Yes, brought on by the Macnachtan witch,” Heath gently reminded them. “We’d all be scandal broth, and you will do nothing of the sort, Anice. She’s a guest and she has been through a traumatic experience.”
    “Where she died and a cat that only she