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She’d just been duped by Jasper. That was the only explanation.
Rewrapping the coverlet tighter around her body and then tucking the top corner of it into the wrap at her chest to secure it, she moved to sit on the bed opposite him. “Evan—”
“We don’t need to talk—no?” He didn’t look up from his plate, digging a chunk of potatoes onto the tines of his fork. “I’m a Scot, there’s no need.”
She leaned over the table, trying to get into his sightline. “So, you’re just going to grunt and groan at me?”
“I’m a beastly, grunting, burly Scotsman, so yes.”
She jerked back, her spine straight. “You heard me say that?”
His look lifted to her, his grey eyes no longer laced with ire, though his face was hard stone. Mirth. Of all things, mirth twinkled in the blue specks of his eyes. “Aye, I did.”
Juliet burst out laughing. Pure, belly-clenching laughter. Her hand went up to her face, covering the barrage of the unbecoming cackles spurting from her mouth. She didn’t laugh like that. Never. Always controlled. Always pandering.
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
She got control of the titters still forcing their way up from her lungs and her hand fell away from her face. “I do apologize that I said that. I had too many thoughts running madcap in my mind at that moment in the hallway and I thought to put an end to Jasper’s request as quickly as possible. It was rude and I wanted you to not like me.”
“You changed your mind.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
She grabbed her plate from the silver platter and picked up her fork. “The many madcap thoughts in my head.” She pointed to her temple. “I wanted to escape them, if only for a short time. What better way than a relaxing respite up in Scotland?”
He nodded, looking to his plate as he stabbed a bite of meat. He popped it into his mouth and he chewed, watching her. “People around you do what you tell them to, don’t they, Juliet?”
“Yes.”
He took a sip of wine. “Ye didn’t even think on the question.”
“I didn’t need to.”
He set his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “I am not someone that can be ordered about.”
A half-smile curved the right side of her mouth. She knew exactly what he referred to. “Yet you went in and secured this room posthaste.”
“Aye.” He leaned back in his chair. “I also am not one to pick an argument out in the pouring rain.”
She pointed her fork at him. “You’re a Scot—what’s a little rain?”
“You think you know much about me just because of my birthplace?”
She shrugged and cut free a corner of the beef. “My job is to categorize people. I’m good at it and I’m rarely wrong.”
“Your job at the Den of Diablo?”
Taking the bite of beef, she looked to him, nodding.
“You came highly recommended from Jasper. You were, in fact, the only choice he would offer me. You must have many admirers there.”
She stopped chewing, swallowing hard. He was poking. Poking into her affairs. Her lifestyle.
A sip of the wine helped dislodge the beef from her throat. “There are a few admirers, though I am always able to swap in one of the other women when the time comes.”
His head tilted slightly to the side. “You’re saying you don’t partake in…activities with the men?”
