Forever and Ever Read Online Free PDF Page B

perfect, stiffened, and she grew an inch. Her chin went up; she had to reach for the brim of her hat to keep it on. “Yes, I am,” she said, and it was a shock to hear chilliness in the warm, melodic voice that had been haunting him since Saturday. “Would working for a woman pose a problem for you, Mr. Pendarvis?”
    “Not necessarily, Miss Deene.” He let his eyes travel down her elegant body and slowly, deliberately, back to her face. “I expect it depends on the woman.” Tension held their gazes, stretching, pulling tighter—until Andrewson cleared his throat and muttered, “Well, now.”
    Then they both looked away, and Connor told himself to calm down. What the hell did he care what Miss Sophie Deene thought of him? She was pretty; once they’d flirted with each other. That was all. He’d better relax, because interests much more vital than his almighty dignity were at stake. But pride, Connor had been told a hundred times, was his biggest weakness, and she’d made the mistake of wounding it. When that happened, his most natural defense was aggression.
    At least he’d made her angry, too—a childish but satisfying consolation. “Will you come into my office, please?” she said, regal as a queen, and his only regret was that she turned and sailed away before she could see his carefully careless smile.
    Her cramped office was dominated by an enormous battered oak desk piled high with papers, books, and little bags of copper ore assays. Shelves on every wall bulged with more papers and files, books, maps, boxes, and sacks. There was no rug on the plank floor, no curtain at the one dusty window; the only feminine touch he could see was a jar of wilting wildflowers on a small table, under a pen-and-ink drawing of a white-haired man with a mustache. The late Mr. Deene?
    She took her hat off and hung it on a hook on the back of the door, then went behind the desk and sat down in a huge, squeaky leather armchair on wheels. She looked so dwarfed and out of place in her aggressively masculine surroundings, Connor grinned at her. Up came the chin. She folded her hands on the desktop and stared at him down the short length of her perfect nose. “Have a seat,” she offered with studied politeness, and even though it was more of a command than an invitation, he sat down in the room’s only other chair, a shabby ladder-back with an uneven leg, directly in front of her desk. “So you would like a job. Is it tribute or tutwork you’re seeking, Mr. Pendarvis?”
    “Which are you offering, Miss Deene?”
    “Neither, until I’m satisfied with your qualifications. What experience do you have?”
    “I’ve told all of this to the captain.”
    Her nostrils flared ever so slightly. “Well, now you can tell it to me.”
    He had to stop baiting her; Christ, he
wanted
a job. He dropped an ankle over one knee and folded his arms, sliding down a little in the chair. “I worked for the Fowey Consols at Lanescot for seven years, four years at Wheal Lady in Redruth, and at Carn Barra for another four.”
    He could see her adding it up. “You’ve been a copper miner for fifteen years?” She kept the dismay out of her voice this time, but he thought he could still see it in her eyes.
    “Copper or tin; I’ve worked both since I was twelve. Oh, and lead once at Portreath, back in ‘fifty-three. Forgot to mention that.” Although this was Jack’s history, not his, he found it surprisingly easy to lie to Miss Sophie Deene. It felt like evening the score.
    “When did you leave Carn Barra?”
    “Six months ago.”
    “And since then?”
    “I’ve not worked at all.”
    This was the tricky part, since he didn’t look like a sick man. Staring her straight in the eye, he said steadily, “I left because of ill health.”
    Her guarded look lifted. “I’m sorry.” She said it as if she meant it. “Do you mind if I ask the nature of your illness? Only because—”
    “It was my lungs, an infectious fever. The doctors