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He must be a recent hire. My parents had never once mentioned him. “How long have you worked for him?”
“A bit,” he said vaguely.
“How long is a bit?”
“Two years or so.” Mr. Hayes met my gaze every so often to distract me from his continued poking around. I let him satisfy his curiosity, thinking it might soften him. We’d gotten off on the wrong foot, and if he worked so closely with my uncle—and if I didn’t want him to haulmeto the docks like he had my luggage earlier—then it’d be wise to have a friendly interaction. But more than that, I had questions and Mr. Hayes surely had answers.
I gestured to the couch. “Why don’t we sit? I’d love to talk about what work you do and my uncle’s latest excavation.”
“Oh you would, would you?” Mr. Hayes sat and stretched out his long legs, and idly pulled out a flask from his pocket. He took a long swallow and then held it out to me.
I took a seat on one of the available armchairs. “What is it?”
“Whiskey.”
“In the middle of the day?” I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
“Does that mean you only drink at night?”
“It means I don’t drink at all.” I was very careful to keep my voice from sounding interested. Mamá never allowed me to take even the smallest sip of wine. That didn’t mean I hadn’t tried it, though. I managed to sneak in tastes during one of their many dinner parties right under her nose.
He grinned, and screwed on the cap. “Listen, as pretty as you are, I’m not your friend, I’m not your guard, and I’m certainly not your babysitter. How much trouble are you going to cause me?”
The question almost made me laugh, but I caught it in time. I considered lying, but instinct told me that he’d see through me anyway. “I really can’t say,” I said honestly. “It might be a great deal.”
He let out a surprised chuckle. “You’re supposed to be stuffy and boring. A lady well brought up, buttoned up with nary a wrinkle on your gown.”
“Iama well-brought-up lady.”
He assessed me slowly, his perusal lingering on my dusty boots and my travel-stained jacket. For some reason, his observations seemed to irritate him. “But not always,” he muttered. “That’s terribly inconvenient for me.”
I tilted my head, brow furrowed in confusion. “How exactly?”
Now the line of his mouth was thin and humorless, and he remained silent and considering, his gaze never leaving my face.
I squirmed in my seat, unused to such a direct stare. “Am I supposed to apologize?” I asked finally with an exasperated huff. “I’m not your problem. Let my uncle deal with me.”
“Actually the fact that you’re here at allismy problem. At least, your uncle will see it that way.”
“I won’t apologize for what I did.”
Mr. Hayes leaned forward, a wicked gleam lurking in his wolflike eyes. “I didn’t think you would. Hence, why you’re a terrible inconvenience for me. It would have been better if I found you stuffy and boring.”
Were we still talking about the docks? A feeling I couldn’t identify rose within me.
It might have been alarm.
“Well, I doubt we’ll be spending that much time together,” I said stiffly. “But I consider myself warned, Mr. Hayes. So long as you don’t cross me, we’ll get along fine.”
I hadn’t meant to make it sound like a challenge, but I instinctively understood that was how he took my words. He seemed to be visibly at war with himself. His body relaxed in slow degrees. When he spoke again, his expression was closed off and remote, his tone of voice almost aloof. “You’ll be sent away soon, anyway; it hardly signifies.”
He lounged on the couch as if he didn’t have a care in the world, or maybe that was the impression hewantedto give. My gaze narrowed. There was a directness in his stare, even as his red-rimmed eyes flickered over the room.
“Are we back to that argument?”
“As far as I’m concerned, we never left it,” he said with a glance in my direction. “This isn’t up for discussion. Your uncle wants you back home and far away from here.”
“Why is that, exactly?”
