Tempting Taffy (House of Devon #8) - Meara Platt Page 0,2

risk her own life to protect his son. If confronted by this elusive villain, he almost believed she would be able to bring him down all on her own.

They now stood a short distance apart. He dug into his pocket and retrieved a shilling he’d tucked in there earlier today. Without warning, he tossed it to her and was not surprised when she easily caught it with one hand.

She stared at the coin in dismay. “My lord, I cannot accept this!”

“Keep it. I have no doubt ye’ll earn it ten times over. This is something appropriately given at the end of my stay, isn’t it? Consider it an early token of my appreciation for yer good services. For yer good services toward my son and nothing more,” he stressed. “I dinna mean it any other way, lass.”

Some lords thought it was their privilege to impose themselves on household staff, especially housemaids as beautiful as this girl. He’d never behaved so boorishly and was not about to start now.

The point of tossing her the shilling was to test her alertness. As he suspected, she was quick to respond. Quicker than most trained soldiers. Indeed, among the best.

Blessed saints.

She was no mere servant.

Who was she really?

CHAPTER TWO

TAFFY RALSTON HAD handled assignments for the Duke of Devon before, so she was no stranger to his beautiful home, nor was she surprised when Homer Barrow, the head of the Bow Street agency for whom she worked, had asked her to remain at Hartland Abbey on a new mission.

She had been told they were to protect the duke’s good friend, the Marquis of Falkirk. Only she hadn’t realized the marquis was a relatively young man, perhaps in his early thirties, if that.

Nor had she expected him to be as handsome as he was.

Her heart had never fluttered over a man before, certainly never one she was assigned to guard. But this marquis was nothing short of magnificent. Big, muscled body. Full head of dark hair. Piercing blue eyes.

Merciful heaven, and that brogue!

She fanned herself with her hand, suddenly needing to cool down despite the wintery chill. This big Scot could melt the ice and snow on a frozen mountain top with one steamy look.

But she shook out of the thought, knowing she had to maintain complete concentration on her mission, especially now that little Rafe was unexpectedly with his father. The boy was an adorable miniature of the marquis. Dark hair and bright blue eyes. His face was still soft and round, but Taffy knew he would grow into an exceptionally handsome man with the same rugged features his father had.

She had not been assigned to guard young Rafe, but how could she not take on this task as well? Everyone believed only the marquis would be here. She would send word at once to Mr. Barrow. Until she received her new instructions, she would include father and son in her assignment and protect both.

Presently, the boy was in the parlor having warm milk and honey cake. Several footmen were there to attend him, but Taffy was eager to make his acquaintance and establish a rapport. His presence changed everything, and although she did not have many years of experience as a Bow Street runner, she had excellent instincts.

Those very instincts warned that the marquis’s unknown enemy would go for the boy first. If the point was to make the marquis suffer, then nothing could be worse than watching his precious son die before his eyes.

But it would not happen. Indeed, not if she had any say in the matter.

That villain would have to kill her first.

“Master Rafe,” she said, bobbing a curtsy to the five year old who was quietly enjoying his honey cake. “When you are finished, it will be my pleasure to show you up to your quarters and ready you for bed.”

The boy nodded, looking up at her with big, trusting eyes. “Where’s my papa?”

She knelt beside him. “I’m sure he will join you upstairs shortly. I think he wanted to take a tour of the house and grounds before it grew too dark outside. You shall share his bedchamber, so you needn’t worry. He’ll be right beside you while you sleep, snoring like a goose.”

He giggled when she made honking sounds to imitate his father.

“Do you promise?” he asked, his voice achingly sweet as he took her outstretched hand.

“Yes, Master Rafe. I promise. Your father will be there with you, and whenever he is not, I shall be. Do you