Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,8
the first to break eye contact, heading to the bar to collect the drinks for a table of four. Don’t sit at my table. Do sit at my table. Don’t. Do.
He did. He took the same table at the back that he’d had the night before, and it suddenly occurred to her that she’d never seen anyone else sit there. Was it a rule of the establishment that it was always to be open for him?
“Scotch,” she said to Mac when he brought her the last tankard for the table of four. Quickly, she delivered the beer, returned to the bar, snatched up the tumbler, and headed to the table at the back.
It wasn’t exactly a smile he gave her when she set the glass before him, but she detected a slight movement of his lips as though he was tempted to grin. It caused a funny sensation behind her ribs, as though a thousand butterflies had taken flight.
“You remembered my preference in drink.”
“It wasn’t that difficult. You were here only last night.” Had she left her lungs with Mac? Why was she finding it a challenge to draw breath? “Jimmy apologized.”
Leaning toward her, he cocked his head slightly, in the manner that many of the customers did, so an ear was more directly facing in her direction. As usual, the tavern was crowded, hardly an empty seat to be had. With the cacophony of all the various conversations, laughter, scraping of chairs, pounding of fists on tables, it was difficult to catch all the words when anyone spoke. She often engaged in the same maneuver.
“I beg your pardon?” he said.
She raised her voice to be heard over the din. “Jimmy apologized—quite profusely, actually.”
“Good.”
“He was rather insistent I let you know.”
He merely nodded.
“Do you often threaten to break fingers?”
“I threaten to break a good many things. I don’t tolerate men mistreating women.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“Acquaintanceship is not a requirement for my ensuring you’re not harassed.”
“I could be a right termagant.”
The mouth wasn’t smiling but the eyes were, and somehow that made him far more dangerous, more approachable, more charming.
“Wouldn’t matter.” He seemed to settle more comfortably into the straight-backed wooden chair as though it were the most plush cushioned armchair that existed in the world. “You don’t speak as though you come from the streets.”
“Neither do you.” He spoke as though he’d been born to the aristocracy. She’d heard that the family of bastards, in spite of their humble upbringing and scandalous backgrounds, had educated themselves in all things important and proper so they could move about within the upper echelons of Society and not be found lacking. And it seemed of late, most of them were moving easily about in that world. Except him. She couldn’t recall seeing him anywhere other than at a church for a wedding.
“I suspect we had a very different education. Did I have the right of it last night? You hail from Mayfair?”
“Why is it important that you know?”
“Why is it important that I not?”
She glanced around, made sure no one was signaling for her, wishing like the devil someone was, before bringing her attention back to him. If he was going to keep at it like water eroding stone, she might as well eliminate the mystery of it, so he’d leave her be. “I once lived in Mayfair, yes.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as though he was striving to make sense of what that meant. “Then you’re an aristocratic lady.”
“No.” Once, but no more. “You would be incorrect.” Three months ago you wouldn’t have been, but today you are. But then three months ago I wouldn’t have brought you scotch, we’d have never carried on a conversation, and I’d have been glad of it. Although she’d have only been glad of it because she wouldn’t have known how he had the power to look at her as though no one else existed in the world.
“It’s not often that I am.”
Was that his polite way of calling her a liar? “That’s an arrogant statement, and yet you didn’t sound particularly arrogant while saying it. As a matter of fact, you sounded rather humble.”
Was she flirting? She didn’t think so. She no longer flirted with men. It only led to heartache.
“The truth comes with confidence; it doesn’t require arrogance.”
“You’re a philosopher, then.”
He shrugged. “I’d wager you were trained to have a place in that aristocratic world, and not as a servant, but as one who is served.”