“I won’t fail— providing your information is better than what you gave me on Bancroft and Miss Beauchamp.”
Aniston’s mouth thinned. “Just find the damn box.” He climbed inside his coach, and the door closed smartly behind him.
Moira watched, her jaw clenched. She’d fetch Aniston’s damned box— but he wouldn’t get it until he’d released Rowena.
The coachman hied the horses and the coach lumbered forward, swallowed by the mist before the sound of the creaking wheels had faded.
A sob caught in Moira’s throat, but she swallowed it and lifted her chin. She would find a way to win Rowena back. And once the child was safe, Moira would follow her blood legacy and finish this game. Aniston might think he held all the cards, but she’d only begun to play.
When this ends, not even God will be able to help George Aniston.
Karen Hawkins, How to Abduct a Highland Lord
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