They should already be in position, awaiting his and her arrival as planned.
Wallace and Catherwood had been appointed to watch the rear of the building, Rutherford and McGregor the front, and the Kennedys would accompany Emeline and Liam inside. Each Highlander was an experienced warrior, but a shroud of unease lay dense and weighty over him, nevertheless.
The carriage rocked to a stop and then bounced as one of the coachmen descended.
“Lass, the key?” Liam gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze and held out the palm of his other hand.
Wordlessly, Emeline passed him the heavy brass key.
“Ye must promise to do exactly as I say, Em,” he said gently, but firmly. “No arguin’ or hesitatin’. Yer life may depend upon it.”
Her eyes absent their usual brightness, she cast a covert glance to the shade-covered window and nodded. “I ken. I shall.”
Bloody hell. How her damn trepidation infuriated him. Not that he directed the ire toward her, but to the miscreant that had dared threaten her. The poltroon who’d hired others to do his dirty work and was such a coward, he targeted defenseless women.
I’m goin’ to descend first,” he said, reining in his ire. He must keep his wits honed and not permit any distractions. Even in thought. “I want to make sure Logan and Broden are stationed outside before ye alight. I’ve nae doubt that the establishment is bein’ watched. Even now, ’tis possible our arrival has been marked.”
Emeline nervously licked her lower lip, her stunning umber-colored eyes wide and apprehensive.
“Please do be careful, Liam,” she urged, her voice low and husky with her concern. “We ken what these people are capable of. I dinna want ye or the others hurt.”
Cupping her shoulders, he pressed a long, fervent kiss to her forehead, saying with his actions what he wasn’t quite ready to say with words.
That he’d die before he’d allow any harm to come to her.
That he still wrestled with demons from his past, but he believed, with her by his side, he might be able to face the future again.
That she’d set up home in his heart and had commandeered his spirit, and his life was no longer his but hers to do with what she willed.
She was his life. His breath. His everything.
He’d tell her those things soon. Verra soon.
Even as a callow youth who’d lusted after the English beauty that had become his first wife, he hadn’t experienced this all-consuming need. To make Emeline his. To take her to his bed and love and worship her until they forgot all else but each other.
He’d need to tell her about the foolishness that had resulted in his forced marriage, though. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to court her otherwise.
“Liam?”
He started, realizing he hadn’t eased her worry.
“I can defend myself, mo chroí. M’anam. Mo grá.” My heart. My soul. My love. He patted the dirk at his waist, rather than in his boot and then his sword. The others had guns as well. “Dinna fash yerself, leannan.”
Her turbulent umber eyes rounded impossibly wider, vulnerability and an unspoken question in their depths at the endearment. “I canna help but fret.”
She was his sweetheart. Aye, and more. Much more, despite his determination otherwise. He started to turn away, but she clasped his forearm. “Liam?”
He turned back, eyebrows taut.
To his utter astonishment and delight, she scooted across the seat and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. The puckered flesh throbbed where her sweet mouth had touched the bunched flesh. She laid a hand on his other clean-shaven cheek.
“I couldna bear it if somethin’ happened to ye. Nothin’ in there,” she gestured toward the quaint shop entrance, “is worth ye riskin’ yer life for. Nothin’.” Her grip on his forearm tightened.
His heart was so full, he wanted to shout his jubilation from Eytone Hall’s gables. Instead, he slid an arm around her slender shoulders, drawing her near, and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. She collapsed into him, returning the kiss with inexperienced enthusiasm.
The blood rushing in his ears, he harnessed his passion. Caution and common sense demanded they stop. When he finally raised his head, he gritted his teeth against the lust surging through his loins.
Emeline’s eyelids fluttered open, and she gifted him a radiant smile. The luster of her sweetly curved lips toppled his resolve. As always, her loveliness clobbered him with the force of a bludgeon, but it was the unguarded affection shimmering in her innocent gaze that shook his foundation.
Now wasn’t the time to contemplate the revelation, however. Retrieving the documents and whatever else she deemed necessary, as well as keeping her safe, were his primary concerns. He would consider this unexpected, but highly prized, discovery later. When he’d completed this self-appointed mission.
Unbeknownst to her, he and his six friends had set a trap for her assailants. If all went as anticipated, she’d be freed from the fear that had dogged her since that fateful afternoon she’d almost been murdered.
He recalled, again, how brave and majestic she’d been facing down her attackers that day. A seasoned battlefield warrior couldn’t have been more courageous.
Whoever the scoundrel was hunting her, he had resources and money. Besides the drivers Liam had killed, there had also been the two men who’d been snooping around Killeaggian Tower. God only knew how many others were in his employ and undoubtedly, watching Le Chic Modiste even now.
The carriage door swung open, and canting his head to the driver—also armed—Liam descended. He deliberately stood in the opening, blocking any curious passersby or would-be assassins’ view of the interior. With indolent casualness, he yawned and through hooded eyes, scrutinized the area.
“Stay alert,” he advised the coachmen. “And be in your seat, ready to leave the instant we emerge from the shop.”
“Aye, sir,” the driver said, his sharp-eyed gaze scanning the area.
Liam wrinkled his nose. Edinburgh stank.
Overpopulated and crowded, the city was a cesspool of excrement, rodents, and refuse. Nonetheless, pedestrian strolled along, occasionally picking their way around or stepping neatly over rubbish or horse manure.
Equestrians clattered past atop their mounts. A variety of conveyances rumbled up and down the busy street, and grubby, thin-faced urchins darted here and there.
Making a show of examining the sullen clouds for signs of rain, he tilted his head upward. He took note of the rooftops, some stacked six stories high in the distance. Whomever spied upon Jeneva LeClaire’s shop did so discreetly. At least thus far.
Armed in much the same manner as he, except they also bore firearms, Graeme and Camden Kennedy sauntered forward. Every one of the Highlanders he’d asked to assist him had done so without hesitation.
After exchanging a casual greeting for the benefit of anyone spying upon them, the threesome formed a semi-circle before the open coach door.
The coachman assumed a position halfway between the shop and the conveyance while the other driver, atop his seat, swept his keen gaze back and forth, focused and alert.
“Come, Emeline.” Liam reached his hand inside the equipage, and she placed her palm in his, permitting him to assist her to the ground. The trio immediately closed ranks around her, making it impossible for anyone to approach. The men boasted large frames, and while Emeline wasn’t petite, they dwarfed her as they moved as one to the entrance.