earnestly, “I tol’ MacDuffie tha’ there was something odd aboot
these Gypsies, me lord, an’ tha’ I had me suspicions tha’—”
“Pardon me, Mrs. MacDuffie.” Kintore hadn’t raised his voice, but his deep, silken-soft
tone still turned all attention his way. “But we have discussed Miss Petrovna’s country
of origin enough.”
“Och, but she—”
“I grow bored, Mrs. MacDuffie. If I grow too bored, I will be forced to leave this
establishment. And where I go, goes my gold.”
She gawked. “In this weather?” She pointed to the window, where the snow was now falling
in such thickness that all one could see was a blanket of white. “Ye wouldn’t make
it a mile!”
“Och, Mary . . .” The innkeeper looked anguished.
“It will be an unwelcome trial,” the earl continued, though a dangerously tight look
had entered his eyes. “But I cannot stay where I am bored.”
“Surely ye wouldn’t leave jus’ because—”
Mr. MacDuffie grabbed his wife’s elbow. “Me lor’, consider the matter dropped.”
The earl smiled. “Thank you, MacDuffie. I can see that you’re a man of great wisdom.”
He looked past the innkeeper to the tray his wife had brought in earlier. “Ah, some
of your fabulous Scotch. Might I trouble you to pour a glass before you go?”
“O’ course!” MacDuffie eyed his wife narrowly and released her arm.
She glared at him but went to pour the drink.
“MacDuffie, if the Scotch is as good as I remember, perhaps I can relieve you of a
few bottles. I will pay whatever you think fair.”
The innkeeper beamed. “Tha’ ye may, me lor’. I received a new shipment just last week.”
“Excellent. And from the looks of things”—he didn’t glance at the snow-filled window,
but at Alexandra—“I will also need a room. I believe I will stay a day or so. Perhaps
longer. I will pay in silver, of course.”
“O’ course, me lor’. It can all be arranged.” Gleeful at the prospect of such largesse,
the beaming innkeeper bustled his wife out the door as soon as a generous glass of
Scotch was pressed into Kintore’s waiting hands. The innkeeper paused just long enough
to promise a nice tea and some cakes within the hour, and then left.
The second their footsteps disappeared down the hallway, the earl turned his gaze
back to Miss Petrovna . Such eyes. Like ice, and yet they hold such heat. “Well, here we are. Alone at last . . . again.”
She flushed, though the smile she sent him was anything but shy, her eyes shimmering
with the unmistakable light of smoldering passion.
So you enjoyed our kiss as much as I did.
“Yes, here we are.” She tilted her head to one side. “Alone.”
God, but he loved her accent. The faintest hint of a “v” instead of a “w.” The very
slight trill before the “r.” It was damned attractive, as was she.
He usually went for the tall, willowy blond sort. But this woman—he wasn’t certain
what it was about her, but he was completely entranced. And all from a kiss.
He realized that she didn’t have a drink. “Oh, no. That must be remedied.”
“What?”
He crossed to the tray and poured her a glass. “This. You cannot come to the Cask
and Larder without a sip of the water of life.”
“Water?”
“That’s what we call it.”
“Ah. Thank you. I would like that very much.”
He brought her the glass. “Here, Miss Petrovna. I only poured you a little. A very little.”
As he’d done no such thing, a smile quivered over her lips, and then finally sprang
to life, her amazing ice-blue eyes sparkling. She took the glass and sank onto the
settee, patting the cushion beside her in invitation. She is a bold one. I like that.
He sat beside her, letting his knee graze hers.
She made no move to distance herself. Indeed, she eyed him as if measuring him for
a coat, her gaze never still. “Lord Kintore, though I don’t know you well, I begin
to think you are
The White Jade Fox (v1.0)