Page 39 of His Revelation
It was impossible to think of him as anything besidesLunzieat this point, despite him signing the guest registry as Laird Gaberlunzie. But she thought of him as Lunzie, mainly because of the way he winced whenever she called him that. This morning, his shirt was clean—although she hadn’t seen him dirty since that first day, now that she thought about it—and his beard bushy.
Actually, it seemed bushier than necessary. Had he brushed it out? Why? It already hid so much of his jawline she couldn’t recognize the shape of his face. Between that and the eyepatch?—
It was covering his right eye.
Tiffany frowned. Hadn’t it covered hislefteye yesterday?Hmm. She tried to remember but couldn’t. Remembering how irritated he’d been yesterday morning when she’d asked, she kept her question tucked behind her teeth.
“The menu was limited,” he murmured. “I ordered for ye.”
His voice sent little shivers down her spine, and she tamped down on the urge to blush and stammer, remembering the direction of her thoughts last night.
He is just a man. One you have trusted to get you this far, but there can be nothing between you.
Her destiny was…
What?
To return to The Oliphant Inn and allow Mother to make an advantageous marriage for her? To a wealthy man? A man whowasn’tLunzie?
Hmm.
He was staring at her across the table, his expression unguarded.Hungry. But their conversation had been perfectly innocuous. Were they going to pretend last night never happened? She could do that.
So she responded to his comment about the menu. “Thank you.” Tiffany managed a teasing grin. “Taking charge again, I see.”
Somethingflashed in his green eye, something which might’ve been anger or desire or both. “Ye take charge well enough for both of us.”
Ducking her head, she tried to sort out her response to that flash. Had it been desire? Or was he irritated with her teasing about taking control?
They spoke of innocuous things during the meal, then after he stood and offered his arm. “Let’s go see Brother Jimmy about yer manuscript.”
“Such a gentleman,” she teased, slipping her arm in his.
He didn’t deny it.
Whowasher mysterious chaperone? There were times she thought she might know him, but the recognition hovered tantalizingly just out of reach. All she knew was she felt comfortable in his company.
I trust him.
It was impossible to deny. She trusted this man, who looked dashing in a kilt, who needed a shave, who made her feel safe. Who made her feel strong.
“Do you think Brother Jimmy will sell me the manuscript?” she fretted as they strolled towardThe Curios Cabinet. “I do not have much money.” And most of her pin money had been used to pay for the hotel rooms.
Lunzie, however, was staring straight ahead, and she could see little behind that bushy beard. “We can ask. It was auld—surely he’d be grateful to get rid of it.”
Right.
Tiffany exhaled and tipped her head back. It was a gorgeous day—warm and sunny, and just the perfect amount of a gentle breeze blowing—and she smiled, not caring what Mother would say about freckles or sun damage.
These roads weren’t bustling, being a few blocks removed from the thoroughfares. Tiffany had only vague memories of taking this route with Bonnie all those years ago, but she remembered there being fewer beggars.
“Please, milady,” came a soft call from her right. “We’re so hungry.”
Unable to help herself, Tiffany turned, and sucked in a quiet breath when she saw the two dirty urchins. The girl, who’d spoken, was older, with dark wide eyes beneath layers of dirt. She clutched the hand of a younger boy, who sucked his thumb.
“Tiffany,” Lunzie growled in warning, but Tiffany couldn’t turn away.
She pulled her arm from his to crouch down in front of the girl, ignoring the refuse of the street. “Do you have parents, little ones?”
