Chapter 9
If she’d considered it, Tiffany would have thought that she’d sleep soundly that night. A full day of travel, then the adventure in York, ought to have exhausted her. Dinner was delivered by a cheerful young girl, and it was surprisingly delicious and filling, if a little lonely.
She was surprised to discover she missed sparring with Lunzie.
And then there was that orgasm.
That wicked, wonderful release, that pleasure which had swamped her in every way. From him.
She hadn’t kissed him.
It had been unexpected and strange, to have him standing apart from her like that. There’d been no kissing, and neither had removed any clothing…but the way his touch had made her feel?
For a few moments, Tiffany had known she was the most desirable woman in Scotland, and it had nothing to do with her beauty.
So yes, she should have been wrung out, drained. Sated.
But instead of sleeping soundly, Tiffany found herself tossing and turning, remembering the way he’d cursed after she’d called him Lunzie. Who was her mysterious chaperone? Who was he really?
Because she knew he wasn’t who he claimed to be.
But despite all of her worries, Tiffany knew she’d been right to trust him. Tonight, he’d made her feel like a princess, then left her. He hadn’t taken advantage of her, hadn’t pressed her—although in that moment, she might’ve said yes, as she had earlier.
He’d protected her, and protected her reputation, when she couldn’t.
And he’d kissed her neck.
Tiffany paused in her morning toilette to press her fingertips against her skin, where his mouth had been. Somewhere in the dark of night, she’d realized she’d wanted to kiss him then, and wanted it still.
Perhaps, when her adventure was complete, she’d find a way to give him that kiss he’d asked for.
Uncertain if they’d be able to purchase the manuscript for Bonnie and make it in time for the train, Tiffany packed her things and left them at the front desk before meeting Lunzie in the breakfast room.
Other young ladies might find it strange to eat among strangers, but she’d grown up in an Inn, and understood how these things worked.
When she breezed up to the table, Lunzie stood like a gentlemen, and held her chair. “Thank you, Lunzie,” she murmured, sitting.
Was it her imagination, or did his fingers linger on the wood behind her shoulders? “Good morning.” He cleared his throat and moved to sit down.
It was impossible to think of him as anything besides Lunzie at this point, despite him signing the guest registry as Laird Gaberlunzie.
But she thought of him as Lunzie, mainly because of the way he winced whenever she called him that.
This morning, his shirt was clean—although she hadn’t seen him dirty since that first day, now that she thought about it—and his beard bushy.
Actually, it seemed bushier than necessary. Had he brushed it out? Why? It already hid so much of his jawline she couldn’t recognize the shape of his face. Between that and the eyepatch—
It was covering his right eye.
Tiffany frowned. Hadn’t it covered his left eye yesterday? Hmm. She tried to remember but couldn’t. Remembering how irritated he’d been yesterday morning when she’d asked, she kept her question tucked behind her teeth.
“The menu was limited,” he murmured. “I ordered for ye.”
His voice sent little shivers down her spine, and she tamped down on the urge to blush and stammer, remembering the direction of her thoughts last night.
He is just a man. One you have trusted to get you this far, but there can be nothing between you.
Her destiny was…
What?
To return to The Oliphant Inn and allow Mother to make an advantageous marriage for her? To a wealthy man? A man who wasn’t Lunzie?
Hmm.
He was staring at her across the table, his expression unguarded. Hungry. But their conversation had been perfectly innocuous. Were they going to pretend last night never happened? She could do that.
So she responded to his comment about the menu. “Thank you.” Tiffany managed a teasing grin. “Taking charge again, I see.”
Something flashed in his green eye, something which might’ve been anger or desire or both. “Ye take charge well enough for both of us.”
Ducking her head, she tried to sort out her response to that flash. Had it been desire? Or was he irritated with her teasing about taking control?
They spoke of innocuous things during the meal, then after he stood and offered his arm. “Let’s go see Brother Jimmy about yer manuscript.”
“Such a gentleman,” she teased, slipping her arm in his.
He didn’t deny it.
Who was her mysterious chaperone? There were times she thought she might know him, but the recognition hovered tantalizingly just out of reach. All she knew was she felt comfortable in his company.
I trust him.
It was impossible to deny. She trusted this man, who looked dashing in a kilt, who needed a shave, who made her feel safe. Who made her feel strong.
“Do you think Brother Jimmy will sell me the manuscript?” she fretted as they strolled toward The Curios Cabinet. “I do not have much money.” And most of her pin money had been used to pay for the hotel rooms.
Lunzie, however, was staring straight ahead, and she could see little behind that bushy beard. “We can ask. It was auld—surely he’d be grateful to get rid of it.”
Right.
Tiffany exhaled and tipped her head back. It was a gorgeous day—warm and sunny, and just the perfect amount of a gentle breeze blowing—and she smiled, not caring what Mother would say about freckles or sun damage.
These roads weren’t bustling, being a few blocks removed from the thoroughfares. Tiffany had only vague memories of taking this route with Bonnie all those years ago, but she remembered there being fewer beggars.
“Please, milady,” came a soft call from her right. “We’re so hungry.”
Unable to help herself, Tiffany turned, and sucked in a quiet breath when she saw the two dirty urchins. The girl, who’d spoken, was older, with dark wide eyes beneath layers of dirt. She clutched the hand of a younger boy, who sucked his thumb.
“Tiffany,” Lunzie growled in warning, but Tiffany couldn’t turn away.
She pulled her arm from his to crouch down in front of the girl, ignoring the refuse of the street. “Do you have parents, little ones?”
As the boy nodded wordlessly, the girl whispered, “Our big sister takes care of us at the refuge.”
Well, at least she wouldn’t have to figure out how to get a roof over their heads. Tiffany winced. It wasn’t ideal, but she couldn’t save everyone. Still, she tugged her reticule open as she stood. “You are to use this money for food, do you understand? For you and your sister and brother.”
“Tiffany.” Lunzie had moved up behind her; she could feel his warmth at her back.
But the little girl was staring up at her as if she were an angel, and Tiffany sighed. Logically, she knew this was foolish, and that the children could take the money and waste it. But how could she not risk helping them?
Resolved, she placed coins in the girl’s hand. The small fingers curled around them.
“Thank you, milady.”
Tiffany smiled wearily. “Just Tiffany,” she whispered, then turned away, not wanting to see if the children would betray her trust by rushing to spend her limited coins on frivolities.
But she walked right into Lunzie’s chest. He grabbed her upper arms to steady her, but instead of escorting her again, he stared down at her, his expression unreadable.
“Lunzie?” she whispered, not at all teasingly.
“Ye’re verra…”
When he trailed off, she nodded in understanding. “Beautiful, aye.”
“Nay.” He winced. “I mean, aye, of course ye’re beautiful, and ye ken it, but…”
When his voice dropped, and he leaned even closer, Tiffany felt her heart beating double time. His lips were inches from hers, and his scent tickled her nose in the most intriguing way.
“Yes?” she whispered, breathlessly.
When he swallowed, she watched his throat and realized she’d never before looked at a man’s throat the way she looked at his.
Never before looked at a man the way she looked at him.
Had Lysander’s throat been quite so intriguing, buttoned up behind those proper neckties?
And why was she comparing Lysander to the man who currently held her?
Because Lysander was the man you were supposed to marry, but the more you know Lunzie, the more you question what you want.
Last night, he’d given her what she’d wanted, what she’d needed. And he’d protected her.
Lunzie’s hand rose, his fingertips brushing her cheek, as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, right there in the streets of York.
“Ye, Tiffany, are no’ just beautiful. I ken ye think that is where yer worth lies, but ye have much more worth than that.
Ye’re strong and capable, and surprisingly kind. ”
Her gaze darted back to his eye. “Why is that surprising?”
He shrugged. “A woman as beautiful as ye, also being kind? No’ just kind, but caring and open-hearted, and looking for ways to help others…”
Her lips, which had been parted in anticipation, began to draw into a frown as she settled back on her heels. “I am trying not to be offended by that, Lunzie.”
Behind his bushy beard, his grin flashed once. “Good. Because it’s me admitting I was wrong about ye.” His gaze turned speculative as it roamed over her face. “I find, to my surprise, I want to kiss ye more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss a woman before.”
Oh.
Last night, he’d kissed her throat. What would it be like, to kiss his lips, hidden by that beard? Tiffany found herself swaying toward him again as she whispered, “I would like…”
She wasn’t certain what she’d like, but knew it involved him.
So when he stepped backward, nodding firmly, she felt a loss she couldn’t even explain.
“I bargained for a kiss once I’ve helped ye on yer mission, so I’d best ensure this task is completed soon!” Before she could do more than blink in confusion, he’d grabbed her arm and slid it into his. “The Curios Cabinet is just ahead. And stop calling me Lunzie.”