“Caw, Gillie, is it Christmas already?” Robin asked from his place at the large wooden table where those who worked for her took their meals.
“No, lad, but I have an errand to run later and thought it might be cool out.”
“Going to see Father Christmas?”
“No! It’s not yet time for Christmas.”
“I think you look lovely,” Hannah said as she stirred a large cauldron on the stove. There was no doubt her cook enjoyed the meals she prepared. She’d been a skeleton of a widow when Gillie had hired her, but now was plump curves that provided a comforting cushion for her children, even if they were nearly grown.
Gillie felt the heat warm her face at the compliment. “I dressed for the weather.”
“Of course you did. Jolly Roger told me you had a gentleman caller last night.”
“Don’t be daft. He was merely a customer.”
“You don’t sit with customers.”
“It’s difficult to explain.”
Her cook grinned slyly. “He said he was a handsome fella.”
Rolling her eyes, she released a quick burst of air. It was going to be a day for sighing. “Is that soup going to be ready when we open?”
“It’s ready now. Would you care for some?”
“No, thank you.” Her stomach was stupidly knotted up. She doubted she could eat anything at the moment. “I simply wanted to make sure everything is ready.”
She marched through to the taproom, the main part of the tavern. Standing behind the counter with two rows of casks lined up at his back, Jolly Roger was setting up the till. “You are the biggest gossip this side of the Thames.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze lifting slightly to meet hers. For all of his breadth, he didn’t match her in height. “What’d I do?”
“You don’t need to be telling people my business.”
He shrugged offhandedly. “Not every day a toff walks in here. And you’ve never sat with a bloke before.”
“I sit with my brothers.”
He laughed, returned to counting out the money. “Not the same, Gil. Not the same.”
She should dismiss him for talking to her with such disrespect, let him struggle to find work elsewhere. Pity she liked him as much as she did, and he was a good worker. “When things slow down this afternoon, I’ll be stepping out for a bit.”
“With your gent?”
“He’s not my gent.”
He closed the till, turned, leaned against the counter, and crossed his beefy arms over his broad chest. “You need to be sure he knows that. I seen the way he looked at you.”
“He’s spoken for.”
“He married then?”
“Not yet.”
“Many a man changes his mind before he gets to the altar.”
This one obviously wasn’t. He’d been to the altar, been stood up, and still wanted to find the woman. Clearly he saw her as his future. She sighed once more. “He can change his mind all he likes. I have no interest in finding myself saddled with a man. Open the door. Let’s get to serving.”
“Takes only one, Gillie.” He started lumbering toward the entrance.
