Page 7 of Walk on the Wildsyde

His gaze was direct, making Clara feel suddenly that she had gone out without putting her corset on, which was ridiculous. She knew she was wearing it because she had clearly laced it far too tightly. That would account for the fact she could not find a proper breath, she was certain. However, the man was insolent and ill-mannered. To find him sleeping in the children’s classroom was bad enough, but he was barely dressed, and the way he looked at her! Quite shocking. Quite invigorating, too.

“I am, sir. I came to speak with Mr Stewart, but as I see he is not here, I shall leave you to your nap.” She inclined her head and turned to leave.

“Nae, I was looking after the bairns for him as he’s, er… indisposed. What were ye wanting with Mr Stewart?” he demanded, a curious glint in his eyes.

Clara swallowed, well aware the truth would do her no favours. Crossing her fingers within the folds of her skirts, she asked God to forgive her the lie and promised to make amends. “My father gave him some leaflets for the children. He asked me to discover if they had all been given out.”

“Leaflets?” he repeated and then reached for one of the same upon his desk. “Oh, aye. I gave them out this morning. I’m nae sure what good they’ll do, mind.”

Clara had to admit she wasn’t certain either, not when written in her father’s condescending tone, at any rate. How many of the children’s parents were literate was something her father had not considered either. She wasn’t about to tell him that, though. “Well, it’s easy to criticise and do nothing at all, I suppose,” she said tartly, rather despising herself for her manner, but really, the man was clearly a reprobate. “If you will excuse me.”

“Ach, dinnae run away so fast,” he said, crossing the room to her. “We have nae been introduced.”

“You, sir, are in no fit state to be introduced to a lady,” she retorted.

He grinned again, and there was something about that charmingly wicked curve of his lips that was terribly endearing. It would be the easiest thing in the world to be charmed by him, but then he added, “Ah, snooty, are ye? That’s a pity.”

Clara stared at him in outrage, all the allure she had found in his smile vanishing at his words. “I am nothing of the sort,” she said, shocked by the accusation. In truth, she ought to have turned and walked away the moment she laid eyes on him. No, worse than that, she ought never to have entered the building in the first place. This, then, was her punishment for misbehaving.

“Ye are, though,” he said, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb. “Or perhaps ye are just a coward. Are ye too well bred to cross swords with me?”

“You sir, are rude, ill-mannered and… and quite outrageous.” Much to her dismay, he laughed at that, and rubbed the back of his neck, his expression rueful.

“Aye, happens ye are right enough. Forgive me, lassie. I have the very devil of a heid, and a morning spent with those wee miscreants has nae helped a bit.”

“Youare a teacher?” she exclaimed, so shocked by this that she could not help the depths of her surprise show through. She could not for the life of her see this man as a teacher. A blacksmith perhaps, or wielding a broadsword at the battle of Culloden… that,she could imagine, but a teacher?

His eyes flickered. “And why not?” he asked, challenge in that warm, mellow voice, one tawny eyebrow quirking.

Clara swallowed. “I’m sure it’s no business of mine what your profession is, sir,” she blurted, and hurried from the room.

To her chagrin, he followed her.

“Ah, ye are a coward,” he said, the satisfaction in his voice making her stop in his tracks. “I thought so.”

Clara swung around, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why are you deliberately trying to provoke me?” she demanded, her breath catching when he took a step closer. Too close.

His voice lowered, so deep and dangerous it made her suddenly aware of her own skin, of the places where her clothing touched her. “Because ye are the prettiest sight I ever saw on waking and because yer eyes flash like diamonds when ye are vexed, and I dinnae want ye to run away too fast,”

Clara blinked, too breathless to speak, well aware she ought to be running away like the devil was at her heels, and finding she was rooted to the spot.

“They’re grey,” he observed, staring into her eyes with such intensity Clara could not help but return his gaze. His eyes were not just amber, she noted, but gold and bronze and copper and quite mesmerising. “Yer eyes are full of storm clouds, Miss Halliday. I reckon ye have a temper, have ye nae?”

“I am considered to be a perfectly placid and even-tempered creature,” she retorted, putting up her chin.

“Liar,” he said, flashing her that wicked grin again.

“How dare you!” she replied, glaring at him.

He only laughed, shaking his head. “Nae, dinnae fash. I like a lassie with spirit. I’m nae interested in these milk and water misses that agree with a fellow nae matter how daft he is.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved you approve of me, sir. For your good opinion was all that was missing from my life,” Clara said hotly, and then blushed, appalled at how rude she was being. “I beg your pardon,” she said, immediately contrite.

“Nae, dinnae stop now, ye were just getting the hang of it,” he said, winking at her.

Clara had the sudden childish desire to stamp her foot. She resisted. “You are the most… most…”

“Aggravating?” he suggested.

“Certainly that,” she said furiously.

He grimaced suddenly a ran a hand through his hair. “Aye, I reckon ye are right enough. I suppose I owe ye an apology. Forgive me, Miss Halliday, I’m afraid I am nae at my best for my head is clanging and ye surprised me out of my wits – out of good behaviour anyway. But ye did well to give me a proper scolding, good on ye lassie.”

Clara glared at him, refusing to be charmed by the rueful and far too endearing smile he sent her. “Good day to you, sir,” she said, and turned on her heel, stalking away and wondering if he was so lost to propriety, he would follow her out of the school in such a state of undress. She was almost at the end of the road before she turned to check. The door to the school was closed, and she glanced at the window to the classroom, jolting as she saw him standing there, watching her.

“Oh!” Clara muttered, irritated that he’d seen her looking back. Now the odious man would think she was hoping he had followed her. Putting her chin in the air, she stalked off, determined that if she ever saw the vexing man ever again, she would not give him the time of day.