Page 100 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

"Boss said to collect. Can't collect from a corpse." Matthew stepped forward, letting his shadow fall across the broken man. "Get him to a physician. Give him a week. Then we visit his brother."

Gregor's brow furrowed with the effort of thinking. "His brother?"

"The one with the textile shop on Rose Street. Our friend here will find the money if his brother's kneecaps are at stake." Matthew looked down at the debtor, keeping his expression flat. Cold. "Won't you?"

The man nodded frantically, blood bubbling from his split lip.

"See? Motivation." Matthew turned away. "Clean this up. I'll report to his lordship."

He climbed the cellar stairs, each step taking him farther from the violence and closer to his brother's study. His hands were clean. He hadn't touched the debtor himself, but he could smell the blood on his clothes. Could feel it seeping into his skin, staining something deeper than fabric.

This was the work. This was what he'd agreed to.

For her.

Pain threatened to pierce him, but he wiped his thoughts clean of her. Ice replaced his heart once more.

Carrick's study was warm and well appointed, all polished wood and leather chairs. His brother sat behind a massive desk, reviewing ledgers. A nobleman in all appearances but the devil himself underneath.

"The Murray debt?" Carrick asked without looking up.

"Handled. He'll pay within the week."

"And if he doesn't?"

"He will."

Carrick's pen paused. He looked up, studying Matthew with those cold, assessing eyes so like their father's that Matthew's stomach turned.

"You've been useful these past weeks, brother." The word dripped with irony. "I admit, I had doubts when you appeared at my door. The prodigal bastard, tail between his legs."

"Marriage didn't suit me."

"So you said." Carrick set down his pen, leaning back in his chair. "Tansley of all women in Britain.” He chuckled. “She was always too spirited for her own good. I'm not surprised she drove you away."

Matthew kept his expression neutral. "Aye."

"Women." Carrick shook his head with mock sympathy. "They never know their place." He gestured to a crystal decanter on the sideboard. "Drink? You look like you need one."

"Early for whisky."

"It's Edinburgh. It's never too early."

Carrick poured two glasses of whisky and settled into his chair.

"Tansley… or Archer," he said. "I've had the banns read. Everything's prepared."

Matthew took the offered glass. Said nothing.

Carrick's eyes narrowed slightly. "You disapprove?"

"Your business."

"But?"

Matthew shrugged. Drank.

"Out with it." Carrick's voice sharpened. "You lived with the woman for weeks. If you've something to say, say it."