Page 3 of His Revelation
“Miss Oliphant,” he murmured politely, as he took her hand. “We meet again.”
It wasn’t a “I’m so glad we’ve met again,”or “Of course we’d meet again, since I invited ye after all,” or even a “What in the hell are ye doing here, so that we could meet again?” It was just a simple statement, and Tiffany found herself floundering in intentions.
“Yes, milord.” She remembered to keep her voice breathy and alluring, the way Mother said men preferred. “Thank yousomuch for having us. This is the highlight of our week.”
He straightened but didn’t release her hand. His touch, the way it had in the past, sent little shivers of delicious warmth through her, and she felt as if she could spend the rest of her life holding his hand, despite the layer of soft glove she wore. When she felt his thumb trace a small circle across the backs of her fingers, she wanted to drop her gaze to confirm, but couldn’t seem to stop looking athim.
And the way he was looking ather.
Despite the warmth of his touch, his hazel gaze was…closed off. Not at all the open and laughing young man she’d danced and flirted with at the ball. But at least it wasn’t the icy anger she’d felt from him when he’d come to the inn for tea.
“Aye,” he finally murmured, and when she shifted frantically through her memory to the last thing said, she bristled at his agreement. As if thisshouldbe the highlight of her week.
With a faint sniff and telling herself it didn’t matter how nice his touch felt, she pulled her hand from Lysander’s and straightened her shoulders. Surprisingly, his lips curled upward at her haughtiness, but it wasn’t a warm smile.
He inclined his head once more. “Tea, Miss Oliphant?”
When he gestured to the collection of chairs where Bonnie and Athena were already speaking animatedly about something-or-other, she lifted her chin and swept past him, her stomach all in knots.
Why was he acting this way? She studied him surreptitiously as she poured the tea and was disconcerted to find him watching her. Oh, she was used to men looking at her, but Lysander was studying. Noting her every move…judging. She could feel his regard and didn’t care for the sensation.
Mainly, because she was worried he might not like what he saw.
“We Oliphants need topreserveour history,” Athena was saying to Bonnie, who nodded along. “For some of us, it is the only clan history we will have. And so much of it is disappearing.”
Bonnie was clearly enjoying the discussion, whatever it was. “The next generation will thank us for ensuringtheirchildren will be able to enjoy it.”
The redhead’s expression had tightened at the reference tothe next generation, but now she nodded. “Aye, exactly. For the bairns born into the clan, and those who will no’ claim their father’s clan, this is vital work.”
Theyallknew to whom Athena referred, which is likely why Bonnie’s tone was encouraging when she said, “I have heard that your family’s collection is quite extensive.”
“It is impressive indeed,” Athena agreed.
“Indeed,” murmured Lysander, still staring at Tiffany.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “More tea, milord?” she asked, trying to distract him.
“Nay. Mine is delicious.”
He hadn’t touched the cup she’d been forced to set in front of him.
Willing her hands to stop shaking, Tiffany carefully leaned forward and placed her own cup and saucer on the small table across from his. Then she smoothed her palms over her skirts and told herself there was no reason for a man’s scrutiny to make her feel so—so—bare. She was beautiful, was she not? It was no wonder he would stare at her so.
But the truth was, she was afraid he was studying her for another reason entirely. The same reason his hazel eyes were no longer warm and full of laughter when they met hers.
When he and Mr. DeVille had taken tea at the inn, Tiffany was rather afraid of what they might’ve overheard.
It had been only a week after the ball, and Bonnie had been teasing her about Mother’s plans. Mother had always dreamed of Tiffany becoming Lady Oliphant—notaLady Oliphant, as Mother herself was, butTheLady Oliphant, married to the next laird—and Tiffany was horrified by the prospect.
Not just because it would mean not being able to marry Lysander and live Happily Ever After, as the heroines did in Bonnie’s books, but because of who the heirwas. It wasn’t just his scars which made Lyon Oliphant unapproachable, but the fact he treated everyone so coldly since the death of his wife. He was filled with a harshness which scared Tiffany.
She would rather be married to—toanyonethan to the Beast of the Oliphants.
Unfortunately, when Bonnie had teased her about such a possibility, Tiffany had snapped back rather cruelly. She hadn’t just insulted the man’s appearance—which he couldn’t control, not really—but his cold heartlessness. She hadn’t been overly loud, but she’d insulted the heir quite thoroughly until Bonnie understood the depths of her dislike.
And then, when they’d stepped farther down the hall, they’d realized the door to the parlor where Lysander sat had been propped open.
She wasn’t certain he’d heard any of her words, but the guilt had been eating at her since that day. When they’d received theinvitation to tea with the Oliphant gentlemen, she’d spent the day rejoicing, believing that meant Lysander was still very much interested in her. But now, seeing his neutral regard, she wasn’t sure what to think.
