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She shrugged, the diary lying open in her lap.
“I’m not most people, Miss O’Connell. I think you can read it. In fact, I bet you can read just about anything I put in front of you.” He motioned to the surrounding shelves. “Any book in any language.”
She bit her lip, her gaze and her hands moving over the page as if she could pull the words out by touch. Her arched brows drew into a frown of concentration, her mouth silently forming each sound. She looked up. “It’s just an old children’s story. A fable. I heard it often at”—she swallowed whatever she’d been about to say—“at home. Growing up, I mean.”
A rush of excitement cruised along his skin like a static charge. He exhaled slowly to calm the wild hope. “I’m prepared to forgive your crimes, and more than that, I’ll hire you. You’ll have a place to stay. Meals.” He eyed her outfit, trying not to envision what lay beneath. Hard to do since he’d seen what lay beneath. “Proper clothes.”
She flushed. “And what would I have to do for this largesse? You’ve already said I’m not fit for your highbred self.” Her gaze remained fixed and unwavering.
Noting the trim athlete’s body and the delicate oval of her face, he’d have revised his opinion if he didn’t think that would scare her faster than anything else. If he needed talents of a carnal nature—and by his disturbing reactions tonight, he did—he’d join Jack on one of his nightly romps. His cousin had a knack for collecting women of a certain sort. A devil-may-care style women found irresistible and men sought to copy.
He’d possessed that same self-confident bravado once.
A lifetime ago.
He
ran a hand down his face, suddenly drained of energy. Frustrated. Despondent.
“All you have to do is translate this one book. From beginning to end.”
“I do this,” she spoke slowly as if mulling the idea over, “and you’ll not turn me in to the Watch for thieving?”
“That’s right.”
She traced the cover’s faded design with the tip of one finger. Looked up, suddenly all business. “And what’s to keep me from leaving any time I choose? Are you going to chain me to a desk in my room?”
“No, you’ll be free to go where you will within the house or garden. I’ll trust to your honor to keep you here.”
She gave a derisive snort as if he’d just confirmed her opinion of his gullibility. But really, what else could he do? He wasn’t a gaoler. He’d made the offer. Sweetened the deal. She’d either take him up on it. Or she wouldn’t.
“Well, Cat?” He tried to keep the keenness from his voice. Best she not know his desperation. But since the idea had first struck, it had dug its roots deep into him. Her refusal would chop him off at the knees.
She glanced down at the closed book and back up.
No need for the nix this time. Her gaze met him square on and unflinching, jade green eyes slashed with shards of lightning. “I must be mad, but you’ve got yourself a deal, Kilronan.”
Cat lay on top of the covers, watching the dance of the flames in the hearth. Fighting sleep as she waited until the only sounds she heard from beyond her door were the creak of a settling floorboard and the Watch calling the hour.
If Kilronan thought she’d be bought by some paltry clothes and a warm fire, he’d been much mistaken. She was hardly a beggar off the street, accepting any scrap to fall her way. Between her and Geordie, they made a good living. And if it didn’t match the luxuries she’d lost, it wasn’t the workhouse squalor or the cheek-by-jowl tenement living of her first desperate months alone.
And as for Geordie, he’d be worried at her continued absence. Best to get back and warn him the job was a bust. Swinging her legs to the floor, she tugged her jacket into place. Slid her feet into her boots. Chafed her hands in nervous anticipation before taking a deep, fortifying breath.
And heard the death rattle click of a key in the lock.
She froze, knowing no amount of shouting or banging would bring Kilronan back to let her out.
She was well and truly caught.
A flare of light and a stage whisper punctuated by muffled laughter dragged him back to consciousness. Had Jack returned already? Or had Aidan slept longer than he’d thought? It felt like mere minutes since his head had touched the pillow.
“Are you awake, coz?” The sour, claret-coated question turned Aidan’s empty stomach.
He thought about feigning sleep in hopes his tormentor would give up and shuffle off to bed. But the space behind his eyelids burned bright red, followed by heat enough to scorch his nose hairs as the lit candle wavered inches from his face. If he didn’t respond, he’d not put it past the drunken fool to set him on fire.
He opened his eyes. “I am now. What do you want?”
Jack’s hovering countenance broke into a snozzled smile. “Missed you tonight. Barbara Osborne attended. Asked after you.”
