TWO
RENNIE HAD BEEN right.
The moment I started eating, my appetite roared back to life. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until I sank my teeth into a delicious slice of roast beef with spinach and roasted potatoes. Everything was spiced to perfection, not too salty or too hot, and the potatoes melted in my mouth, leaving the taste of rosemary and oregano on my tongue. Despite my hunger, I took small pieces of the food. Ladies’ manners. Hard habits didn’t go away quickly.
“You don’t have to impress me,” Rennie said, after chomping on a big mouthful of beef. “You must be starving.”
I was about to tell him I’d been raised a lady and it was difficult for me to forget my manners when I eyed a waiter carrying a bottle of wine.
“I think you’re right.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “I’d like to have a glass of wine as well.”
“No.” His forehead furrowed, and the single word rang sharply.
“Excuse me?”
He lowered his knife and leant closer. “I said no.”
“And I say you can’t order me around.” The nerve of this man.
He coughed into his fist. “It’s not an order. I was strongly suggesting you not drink wine or any liquor. You took the green serum. You shouldn’t drink wine. Green serum and wine don’t go well together. In fact, it’d be better if you didn’t dance either, just in case the green serum has an unexpected side effect.”
“You don’t even know what’s inside the green serum, but now you’re an expert on what I should or shouldn’t drink, or what I should do or shouldn’t do?” My pathetic plan to convince him to talk was crumbling. “I want a sip of wine.” I jutted out my chin.
“Monia.” It was a warning. His green eyes flashed.
“I want to dance, and I want a glass of wine.” I raised a hand to call a waiter. Yes, yes, I was being childish. But dash it, I blamed him. No one ordered me around, especially since he refused to answer my questions.
I didn’t see him moving. One moment, he was sitting and glowering from across the table. The next, he was standing in front of me, blocking my view of the waiter.
“Please, Monia.” The corners of his mouth stretched when he said ‘please.’
I bit down a comment about the fact that I was Miss Fitzwilliam to him. “Tell me why you are here.”
The annoyance in his face—which was likely matching mine—morphed into surprise, then into annoyance again. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“Strongly persuading you to tell me the truth.”
“There’s no truth to be told.”
I lifted my hand and looked past his bulky figure. “Garçon!”
“What are you doing?” He took my hand and lowered it, holding it between his. A strange, fleeting flutter started in the depths of my chest. I wasn’t sure it was due to seasickness. “This isn’t a hotel or a French restaurant. You can’t call the waiter garçon. It’s rude.”
Ha! Listen who’s talking about manners. Besides, he pronounced ‘garçon’ as ‘gross-on,’ which made me giggle.
“I’ll go to him then.” I rose from the stuffed chair in a bold gesture that actually proved to be a disaster. I was half an inch from him when I stood up and he was still holding my hand in a rather intimate fashion.
As close as I was to him, I could see a scar on his neck and another one along his jaw. And blimey, his eyes weren’t just green, but a lovely shade of Irish shamrock with golden specks around his large pupils. Unfortunately, in my haste to stand up, my shawl got caught in the ear of the chair and slid off my shoulders. I let out a breath and spun to grab it, but the darn thing slipped to the floor.
“Tarnation.” I turned around, showing him my back.
“You’re naked,” Rennie half-hissed, half-whispered. I could swear his voice sounded all breathy.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cheeks turning into an inferno, I snatched the shawl and wrapped it around myself before facing him. “Since my parents didn’t think of hiring a maid for me, for some absurd reason, I couldn’t button my dress fully. But I’m not naked.”
Thank goodness the hall wasn’t busy, or my moment of hysteria would have had a few witnesses.
His frown deepened. “You could’ve asked for help.” Were his cheeks slightly flushed?
