Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor #3) - Rose Gordon Page 0,25
yours.”
“I’d rather not.”
Rae playfully wagged her finger at him. “You won’t be finding favor in that boy’s eyes with an attitude like that.”
Simon sighed. He and his parents might not be getting along, and he might have a measure of disdain toward Giles, but Rae was right, Seth would soon be part of his family. “Do I have to gain his esteem?”
Rae wiped her lips then set her napkin down. “No. You don’t have to.” She reached for her reticule. “But how do you think he feels?”
10
Rae might have laughed at Simon’s unhinged jaw if she knew in her heart that his expression was borne solely of innocence.
She bit her lip, unsure if she should further explain her meaning.
“Are you ready to introduce me to your Prince in Shining Armor?” Simon asked suddenly, pushing to his feet.
Rae’s face warmed. She’d hoped by lingering in the tearoom she’d be able to avoid Simon seeing Mr. Fisher.
Simon gripped the back of her chair, his earlier befuddled expression now replaced with amusement.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not introducing the two of you,” she said as she stood.
“Mmmhmm,” was his only response until they got back out into the sunshine, then, “All right, where is the handsome chap.”
“How much sugar did you put in your tea?” Rae wondered aloud.
“Enough to cover the bitter taste.” He guided her to the street then stopped. “Which way to your prince?”
Repressing a sigh at his insistence, she reluctantly pointed her finger to the left.
“All right, let’s go surprise him.”
Surprise him? Rae dug her heels into the ground. “Simon, I meant what I said. I have no intentions of introducing you to him.”
Simon frowned. “And why not? Does my presence embarrass you?”
“No,” she said quickly, then frowned at him. “Are you mocking me?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Because of my choice.”
“Your choice?” he echoed, the same befuddled expression from the tearoom coming back over his face.
“Mr. Fisher isn’t a prince in shining armor,” she said between clenched teeth. Swallowing the last ounce of pride she had, Rae pointed to a shop across the street and three doors down. “He’s the one who makes it.”
Simon’s eyes followed the invisible line that extended from Rae’s finger. His lips moved but said nothing.
Nervous anticipation built within Rae. What would he say about her interest in a smithy? “As I said earlier, he’s not my prince,” she whispered when she didn’t think she could take the silence for another second.
Silence was Simon’s only response.
Why is he staring at me like that? “Not all girls dream of growing up and marrying a prince,” she said irritably.
“You’re awfully defensive of your choice,” he said quietly. Then, without allowing her a chance to respond, he started walking in the direction of the smithy.
Not wishing to be dragged behind him, Rae put her feet into motion her heart slamming wildly in her chest.
Simon snorted.
She poked him in the side with her elbow. “What was that for?”
“One minute you’re as bold as a lion and the next you’re as skittish as a house cat.”
“I’m not skittish!”
He grinned at her then winked. “No? Excited to see your lover again?”
Rae’s blood turned to ice and she nearly tripped.
“Forgive me.” Simon’s cheeks pinkened. “I shouldn’t have said…” His blush deepened and he forced a shrug. “It’s my curse, I’m afraid: speaking before thinking.” He guffawed. “Perhaps that’s why I send the ladies into another’s arms,” he said beneath his breath.
Rae squeezed his arm in reassurance. “I’m sure that’s not what it was.”
Simon pulled to a stop and looked down at her, his eyes wide and his eyebrows halfway to his hairline. “Oh? Then why was it?”
Despite herself, she giggled. Then quickly tried to recover her composure, unsure whether he was trying to be humorous. “Perhaps you come off a little forward,” she suggested weakly.
“Perhaps,” he allowed with a slight frown that only lasted but a split-second. He reached for the dented, brass doorknob in front of him. “Ready?”
“No.”
Flashing her wry smile, he twisted the knob and flung the door open, revealing to the pair the dusty, dank smithy shop she knew so well.
A hard lump formed in Rae's throat as her eyes wandered around the room. Scratched and dented tools she didn’t know the name of hung on hooks all over the room. Some were long and pointed, others were odd-shaped tongs. A few looked like hammers of various weights. All were dirty and well used. But each had a specific place.