He cleared his throat. “I’d prefer activities that didn’t involve dodging objects aimed at my head.”
“A fair point,” she acknowledged, squinting at him. “How did you know I’d aimed at your head? The pillow merely grazed your shoulder, did it not?”
He smiled. “The expression on your face suggested you’d only be satisfied with the most painful result.”
“Then I wouldn’t have been aiming for your head, would I?” she asked.
Where did she—oh, right. Roger’s lip curled despite himself. Naughty, naughty woman. He recalled her clever banter from that night in the Lira library and wondered if anyone else knew exactly what went on in her head, what she could do with her tongue. In more ways than one.
Nothing good could come from pondering that question. “Then, it’s fortunate for me that, like your skills in provocation, your aim is poor,” he finally countered.
She halted and glanced up at him, an odd look in her eye.
“Trust me, I’m quite skilled at provoking several emotions.” Her voice was calm and controlled, unlike his mind, which was absorbed with the visual of her counting off on her rather long and elegant fingers. “Irritation, affront, and boredom are the most common.” She raised her chin with a touch of defiance.
Clearly, she had no understanding of what self-preservation actually entailed.
Not that he was surprised. While the woman was astute, therewere obvious limits to her abilities. Take, for example, her statement in and of itself. While accurate, it was… shallow. Or perhaps unfair, though to whom—Miss Adler or those in the community she served—he was not quite sure.
He had no desire to ponder the matter. While he was committed to their people’s care, he liked almost none of them.
Albeit he didn’t care for the majority of those outside their community either. People in general were a rather tedious lot.
Like roses, just not in a satisfying way.
However, unlike her, he was disciplined enough not to let anyone know his feelings on the subject; hence, he was and would continue to be far more successful in endeavors that required the approval of others than she could ever dream of being.
He coughed into his hand. “How lucky for you.”
“It’s more honest than the responses you elicit, I’m sure,” she said, her eyes flashing again in challenge, as if the respect he fought so hard to earn could be so cheaply reduced to armor, protecting him from the truth of his own inadequacies. As if the years he’d spent squashing all his poor attributes meant nothing at all. Something Miss Adler could never understand.
Roger cleared his throat once more. “Are you still dissatisfied with your accommodations?”
“I never complained about the bedchamber, and the meal was quite tasty.” She adjusted her sling, swishing from side to side again, causing her neckline to sink a little lower—no. No, he was not staring. Not at all. He was in control.
“If I’m being absolutely fair,” she continued, “while the garments in my rooms are not appropriate for my business and slightly ill-fitting in certain areas…” She tugged at the overly large neckline that had fallen even lower. “I’ll admit they’re perfectly adequate forspending time inside. Please thank your relatives for their generosity,” she added with surprisingly little acerbity.
“I shall,” he told her, working to picture anything but what might have been a flash of a peachy nipple—no. He coughed again. “They also told me what to order for you,” he added, his voice slightly strangled. “At least to start. The selections from both the milliner and the wholesaler should be ready soon. We’re having a dressmaker come the day after tomorrow, and you can make any alterations or additions…”
“And subtractions?” Her lips tipped in a small smile, her blue-gray eyes twinkling a touch. “You’d probably want those if I notice something extra. After all, you’re making me whole, not remaking me.” As if that could be possible, no matter what she wore. Though one would suppose her old garments made it much more difficult for the unenlightened to notice the intriguing mix of intelligence, truculence, and sensuality she exuded. Probably why no one in her community had married her, sharp tongue and pillow throwing notwithstanding.
Not that carnality was fundamental to a marriage. Or a priority for him. Besides, Miss Adler was not alluring to him. He could just appreciate her potential allure to others.
“No, but the funds aren’t an issue,” he assured her, moving back to his plants, pretending to inspect a group of thorns. “You’ve been through an ordeal and shouldn’t need to worry about frugality, just that you can once again be comfortable.”
“Must be nice,” she murmured.
“It is,” he said, smiling at her startled expression. “What? You’d like me to pretend money is the root of all evil, and only the poor can live a pure, goodly life, while standing in a room full of roses that will hopefully bloom in winter?” A favorite argument, not of thepoor but of the rich, whose money was old and who desired to keep their ranks small. Especially those who did not require their own labor to feed their bellies.
“I—” She still gaped at him. And he’d not felt so clever, nor so proud, in a long while.
“I’ve surprised you,” he said, turning fully toward her now.
“Yes,” she said with a quick nod. She pursed her still rather fetching pink lips. “I hadn’t realized you were so… percipient. Especially concerning yourself.”
More than she was, certainly. Not that he could say that out loud. At least not without angering her, and he’d relish not having anything else thrown at his head. Nor lure them each into other forms of release for the emotion.
“One does not lose everything and rebuild the way my family did without that skill,” he said, leaning against the table, crossing his legs as he gazed at her. “I have a good sense of reality, Miss Adler. Having a particular amount of funds generally has no bearing on whether or not one is ‘good’ nor ‘bad,’ both concepts better suited for behavior rather than people.”
