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“You are terrible.” I hissed at her, and we laughed. It brought me back to our school days, when things were so much simpler. “And don’t make me jealous. She plays for both sides.”
“Oh?” Sophie said, teasingly pursing her lips. “Maybe I should go after her myself.”
Brett got up from the table and put his coat on.
He leaned over and kissed Rose on the head. She looked up at him and smiled.
“Oh! Are you leaving Brett?” asked Fiona loudly as she delivered trays to surrounding tables.
“Yes,” Brett smiled amicably at her. “I’m an old man and need to get some rest. But my daughter would like to stay up a little later.”
Fiona came to stand at their table, her hands in her apron pockets.
“Oh, we’ll take good care of Jubilee while you’re gone.” She assured him.
“I’m glad.” Brett smiled down at his ‘daughter’. “It’s tough being a father and watching your little one become an independent young woman.”
Fiona smiled indulgently. “Oh, I know it. My little ones have flown the coop too.”
I watched Brett tap his index finger on Rose’s little nose before walking away. She clutched her glass, which I assumed had liquor in it.
Fiona patted her on the shoulder before returning to work.
Now that I knew Geordie’s little computer hacker, Jubilee, and my Rose were one and the same, she would have nowhere to hide. Not from me. We were linked in more ways than one, as Brett Bradley, the fucking American agent, was always poking his nose into Caledonia’s missions. Was she a federal agent too? Maybe she was CIA, as I had suspected. She’d be very young for it, but stranger things had happened.
A sadness darkened her features. I felt a pull to go over and cup her face. I made a fist, and clenched it tight, keeping it on the table to fight the urge.
Another dastardly plan was formulating in my mind.
“Can you convince Fiona to give us the key to her sitting room?” I asked.
The sitting room had been Fiona’s late husband’s library and cigar room. It was locked, not open to the public. But after a decade of patronship, Fiona sometimes let us use that room to smoke and enjoy drinks.
Sophie finished her wine, smiled at me, then got up with the grace of a ballerina. She approached Fiona, who gave her a sly smile, and fished a key from a ring that she kept in her apron. Since her venture was successful, I got up, left some money on the table for our bill, then headed to the bar.
“A Glenmorangie 18,” I told the bartender. “Just give me two glasses and the whole bottle.”
The bartender gave a panicked look to Fiona, but after she waved and nodded, he took the order.
I finally looked directly at Rose. To really allow my eyes to scour her body. My eyes traced from her knee-high boots, up black torn jeans, to a gray and black striped top that hung casually over one shoulder. She sat up straighter. She could feel my attention.
She bit her lower lip and turned her face away from me.
I willed for her to turn her head. To look at me. To show me that she was as conscious of me as I was of her.
As if she could hear my silent request, her head slowly turned. She blinked, and those beautiful hazel eyes met mine. Her mouth parted in a small gasp. It must have mirrored my own. Electricity hummed in the air between us and my heart beat like a longing drum and the melody of her song hummed in my ears.
Of all the queens that ever lived, I choose you to rule me, my Rose Marie…
The melody danced between us, and I wondered if she could hear it too.
“Shall we?” Sophie’s voice disturbed my thoughts as she reached across me to grab a glass and the Glenmorangie bottle.
Sophie turned to where my eyes were glued. She looked Rose up and down, and she gave her a little smile. A look of approval. Then she sauntered off to the sitting room, the key dangling from her little finger.
I never took my eyes off Rose, the lonely little creature with her glass in her hand.
Her eyes pleaded for me to stay where I was and not to follow Sophie. Was there a spark of fire? Or jealousy? That satisfied something terrible within me. The trap was set; the bait was out.
