Page 30 of This Laird of Mine

He turned to leave, but before he reached the door, Claire stopped him with a gentle hand to his shoulder. He twisted toward her. Before he knew what she was doing, she kissed him on the cheek and clasped his hand.

“Be safe on your travels.”

He inclined his head.

Leave. The thought pounded through his brain. Because if he didn’t, he might yield to the demanding need inside him.

She released his fingers and he felt the loss of her.

At the door, he turned to look at her. Concern and sorrow reflected in her golden eyes.

Stunned, he could do nothing more than blink as he forced his feet to move in the opposite direction. He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had been sad to see him go.

An hour later, ensconced in his study, Jules studied the ring Claire had said his solicitor had given her. He still couldn’t make sense of how his mother’s ring had resurfaced after all these years. He was positive his father had buried it with his mother. Had someone opened her grave?

Jules groaned. Nothing about Claire, their supposed marriage, or Grayson’s betrayal and his death made any sense. Yet there had to be a link. What was he overlooking?

Fin appeared at the door and cleared his throat before shuffling into the chamber. “Milord, I apologize fer the interruption, but he wouldn’t take no fer an answer, despite the late hour.”

“What is it?” Jules asked with a frown as he returned the ring to his waistcoat. Lord, he was tired. Jules flexed his shoulders to rid himself of tension, then stood, moving toward his faithful servant. Before he could address Fin further, a young man burst into the room.

“Lord Kildare.”

Jules frowned at the young, blond-haired man, instantly recognizing not his face but his purpose. He had hoped to keep the debt collectors at bay a while longer. “It’s all right, Fin. You can leave us.”

Fin backed out of the doorway, leaving the two of them alone. Jules waited until the door closed behind him, then said with great precision, “You’re the debt collector Fin told me about. You’ve been living in our boathouse. I should evict you from the premises.”

The man’s gaze narrowed. “But you won’t. I was instructed to stay close, to watch you, until your debts are paid.”

“I cannot pay you . . . yet. Come back in five days, and I will have your money.” Jules held up his hand as the man started to protest. “Five days or you will get nothing at all.”

A flicker of irritation entered the debt collector’s eyes. “Your new bride did not bring you an infusion of funds?”

“No,” Jules said, his own irritation spiking. “Not all brides come with dowries. Lady Kildare’s assets are a little more personal.”

The man’s eyes widened, but he said nothing more.

Jules had let the words slip before thinking. Even so, he realized there was some truth to what he’d said. Claire did bring certain assets into their marriage.

Assets that were getting harder and harder to forget.

The next morning, Jules set off for Edinburgh on his horse. Before he left, he made Fin promise to keep an eye on Lady Kildare and to do what he could to keep the dun collectors away. He did not need his friends or his supposed wife to be bothered by things that were clearly his responsibility.

It felt good to finally take an active role in the circumstances that had brought Claire to his door. He was determined to find the answers he needed in Edinburgh. Riding as swiftly as he could, and changing horses often, it still took two days before he arrived, late afternoon, to the city. Jules made his way to James Grayson’s office, across the street from Parliament Hall.

Jules knew social dictates might require him to send a note, alerting Peter Kirkwood, Grayson’s partner, of his arrival and requesting a meeting for the following day, but he did not have the luxury of time. He needed answers before anything else happened to anyone involved in his affairs.

On the third rap upon the door, an aging and stooped Peter Kirkwood answered and ushered Jules into his office. He waited until Jules had settled into the chair before his massive desk, then sat in the chair behind it and put on his spectacles.

“My condolences on the loss of your business partner,” Jules said with true concern.

“Shameful business, what happened to poor Grayson. I always thought I would go first.”

“Did they determine what happened?” Jules asked.

Kirkwood shrugged. “Runaway carriage, they presume.”

“Whose carriage? Are there any suspects, or reasons why it might have happened?”