Page 141 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
I giggled at the image he’d conjured. “No, it’s just a metaphor for blurting out any thought that pops into my head.”
Pete rubbed his furry jaw on his bicep, conceding, “Aye, if you do either of those things, you could damn us tonight. Still and all, I’d say you’re overthinking this.”
“But—”
“I assume it’s safe to say these other chaps you—dated, as you say—I assume you wanted them to see you in a more than friendly light.”
“Some of them, maybe. They never did, though.”
Or they never had the chance to.Thanks, Briar.
Pete’s expression slanted like he questioned those dates’ intelligence. “Even so, this is a different gambit altogether, Shorty, because I tell you true—you won’t care a whit if Ilex Howlite, slaver, finds you an interesting conversationalist. He and I have crossed paths many times on the road, but I chiefly recall him from my time cage fighting—when he’d gamble on matches. He’s a consummate arsehole.” He shrugged off the hostility rippling through his shoulders. “His profession is proof enough of that.”
“Says the harbinger.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Fair point. But as I’ve said, harbingers can be forced into their work. Slavers—they join their trade willingly.”
“Hm.” I imagined the breed of scumbag drawn to a job trafficking Danu’s children—my subjects. Fury narrowed my gaze.
“See, the pressure’s off you. You needn’t worry if he likes you because you, yourself, willdespisehim. Tonight’s only goal is to outfox the wanker. So, just act like the witty beyn who’s come to vex me, and you’ll do smashingly.”
I arched a brow at the teased insult/compliment.
“And might I remindyouof why I took issue with your bachram play.” He smirked. “Only females with a mind to rob a man of his bollocks flirt the way you did that night.”
“Psh!” Heat flared in my cheeks. “Hardly!”
“Deny it all you like, I was the recipient of your lash batting. I knew I was dealing with a vixen, and that’s precisely who I want to slink into that tavern tonight and dupe Howlite out of his purse. That girl with the naughty eyes and clever tongue.”
I shivered at Pete’s brogue calling me a girl. Not a beyn—a girl. Was that how he saw me? I hoped so. Though I shouldn’t have cared.
“One last thing to bear in mind with this plan, Shorty.” He plopped the last of the meat into the stew.
Still ruminating, I twirled a strand of my hair. “What’s that?”
Pete shot me a sidelong glance. “We don’t have another fecking choice.”
“Allright,howdoI look?” I finally emerged from behind the overgrown hydrangea I’d used as a privacy screen and tossed my hands skyward, resigned.
Busy counting the seeds traded for our most frivolous belongings (not my iBloom because I’d threatened to swallow it if he tried to take it from me), Pete glanced my way. And froze, his gaze lightning.
I blew the bangs from my eyes. “That bad, huh?”
Clearing his throat, Pete folded his arms on the wagon bed ledge. “Not how I’d put it, but—” Amusement bled into his expression. “I’ll take a wild stab in the dark—that was Tansy’s frock, no?”
“Yeah.” I peered down at myself. “You probably won’t get this reference, but I look like a cancan girl.”
I totally did. Tansy had gifted me a dress for occasions when my togs wouldn’t blend in. I hadn’t tried it on. She and Olea had magically adjusted its measurements based on other outfits they’d altered for me, and Olea had folded and stuffed it into my book bag before I’d gotten a peek. Now, I wished I’d seen it. The violet bodice fit so snugly it would leave lace prints in my linen blouse, and the flouncy, layered skirt, which flared out at my hips and fluttered to a train, was slit clear up to my thigh on one side.
Biting my thumbnail, I cringed at Pete, waiting for his appraisal.
Several seconds passed before his brows rose, and he gestured at me. “Look at it this way, Shorty. You’ll be certain to nab auld Howlite’s attention—at the least. Only—” Reaching into his pouch, he then popped a small seed into his mouth like a Tic Tac.
His swarthy skin took on a crystalline glimmer. With one flick of his wrist, that glimmer floated my way.
A zinging shiver passed through me, my skin drinking magic. Gooseflesh stippled my arms, which I could now see, as my blouse vanished when the shiver crested. My bodice now clung to my bare skin, in danger of bursting apart if I breathed too hard.
No question, Pete slutting me up should’ve appalled me. And it would’ve—had I not been so intrigued by how he’d done it.
