Page 27 of His Revelation
“No, you just did not hear me.”
Still scowling, he tapped the eyepatch over his left socket. “Nae depth perception, and I cannae see shite on this side.”
Strangely comforted—rather than scandalized—by his coarse language, Tiffany hefted her bag and cocked her head to one side. “That thing was on the other side yesterday, was it not?”
He frowned, affronted. “I dinnae think so. Surely I’d remember which eye I’m missing, aye?” Turning again, he nodded to the train rolling slowly toward the platform. “Ye have our tickets?”
Raising her brow at his commanding tone, she reached for a pocket in her bag and pulled them out. He snatched them out of her hand, then reached for her bag. She had just enough time to wonder if she’d been wrong to trust him, when he suddenly thrust out his elbow.
She stared at it. He was acting as if…as if they were a couple. When she glanced at him, he merely gazed back, offering no excuses. But when she still hesitated, he waggled his elbow again.
“Come along,no’ milady. Ye wanted to look like a simple couple on a journey south, aye? So cozy on up to yer husband.”
Husband.
The idea of being married to a man like him would’ve made her laugh only a month ago. She’d had her heart set on the mosteligible bachelor around, but then had lost her opportunity. But here was a poor man, one with wit and intelligence, and rather fine legs?—
Stop looking at his knees, ye ninny.
Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his arm, and when a bolt of lightning completely failed to strike her down, she stepped closer and linked her arm through his.
This time, she felt a bolt of lightning alright, but a different sort.Thiswarmth spread throughout her chest and settled lower. The reminder that, while this man might not be the sort she’d marry, she was beginning to think of him—and his legs—as very desirable indeed.
And rather than being ashamed of that, the thought made her feel…free.
She might be the most beautiful woman the Oliphants had seen in a generation—and since it was the truth, there was no harm in admitting it, right?—but who said she had to marry someone like Lysander Oliphant?
Well, her mother. And years of belief on Tiffany’s part. But the last few days had been curiously freeing, and had shown her Viscount Blabloblal wasn’t the only man who could be her future husband. She still wanted a husband and bairns of course, and she was wise enough to know she shouldn’t settle for a man without money to support them…but perhaps she shouldn’t be as single-minded in her purpose as she had been the majority of her life.
When I return, I will have to think long and hard about finding a new dream to fix my sights on.
As the train pulled to a steaming, clanking stop, he glanced over at her. “Well, mistress? Are ye ready for yer adventure?”
Slowly, a smile spread across her face. “I really think I am. I can feel myself changing already.”
His gaze slid over her, more familiar than it ought to be as he studied her features, and when he finally nodded, she thought she saw a hint of approval in his single green eye.
“Come along then.”
When they stepped up onto the train, she noticed he didn’t appear to be limping. But before she could ask, someone bumped into her from behind, and she turned to see a young mother juggling three small children.
“Sorry, missus,” the woman gasped, trying to contain a squirming toddler. “I am just trying to get to our seat.”
Smiling, Tiffany pulled Laird Gaberlunzie out of the path. “Certainly. Can I—we—help you at all?”
“Nay, but ye have my thanks. Ian! Stop licking that pole! Hold yer sister’s hand and kindly keep yer finger from exploring the contents of yer nose. Nay, Jenna. Ye cannae have a lolly. Come along, both of ye. The baby’s fretful.”
Chuckling, Tiffany watched them go, then turned back to find her companion studying her. Slowly, her smile faded. “What?”
But he shook his head and stepped into the aisle once more, as the train began to puff away from the station. “Nothing.”
“That is not true.” She hurried to keep up with him. “You were looking at me strangely.”
“Let us simply say, Miss Oliphant, that ye surprised me.”
What? How?
She wanted to ask him, but Tiffany wondered if it would be vain to ask him to speak his thoughts of her. Instead, as he pulled her—still not limping—to a pair of seats beside one another, she hissed, “I am notMiss Oliphanton this journey, remember?”
