His attire was quite fine, thank you very much. In fact, she should probably go and get a big black trash bag and slide it over him. It would certainly make her life easier. “Not a problem. We don’t have much use for ceremony and formal clothes in the Edge.”
His gaze snagged on her Clean-n-Bright uniform. “Why are you wearing that?”
“It’s my uniform. Everyone in my company wears it.”
“It’s hideous.”
Rose felt her hackles rise. The neon green uniform was hideous, but she didn’t appreciate him pointing it out. She opened her mouth.
“Yet despite it, you look lovely,” he said.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she told him.
“It’s not flattery,” he said coldly. “Flattery requires exaggeration. I’m merely stating a fact. You’re a beautiful woman wearing an ugly sack of unnatural color.”
Rose stared at him, not sure what to make of it. Was it a compliment or an insult? Unable to decide, she shrugged it off.
“It’s customary to offer breakfast to boarders,” he said.
“I hope you enjoy Mini-Wheats. That’s all we have.”
She pulled a box of cereal from the shelf and poured it into two bowls. “I wanted to thank you for saving Jack. And for staying with them and making pancakes.”
“I did what any honorable man would do,” he said.
“That said, I still refuse to go away with you.” She added milk and pushed one of the bowls toward him.
“Duly noted.” He hesitated as if deciding on something. “The boys are very brave.”
“Thank you.”
She sat across from him and looked at him. “Suppose, just for the sake of the argument, that you win the challenges. What are your intentions toward me? Am I going to be auc tioned off to the highest bidder like a prized cow, or are you planning on keeping me for yourself?”
His eyes turned dark. “Did someone try to auction you off, Rose?”
“That’s not important.”
“On the contrary. The slave trade is forbidden in Adrianglia. If someone’s selling people, I want to know about it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what would you do about it?”
“I’d make them deeply regret it.”
She had no doubt he could. “Why do you care?”
“It’s my responsibility as a peer of the realm to make sure the laws of Adrianglia are upheld. I take it seriously.”
“All that is good,” she said, “but you still didn’t answer my question. What are your intentions toward me?”
He leaned forward. Some of the hardness drained from his eyes. They turned deep and very green. “I intend to have you.”
“In what sense of the word?”
A narrow smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. He looked utterly focused, like a cat about to pounce. “In every sense.”
Rose choked on her coffee.
Georgie stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Instantly, Declan leaned back, his face casual.
There was a moment there when his eyes had lit up, and she thought he might have been pulling her leg. Almost as if he said that just to get a rise out of her. Could he be joking? Surely not. Not that she would put it past him to make fun at her expense, but he didn’t seem capable of humor.
Rose added another bowl, poured the milk, and distributed the food. Georgie crawled into the chair next to Declan and poked at his Mini-Wheats with a spoon.
“Thank you for the meal,” Declan said, picking up his own spoon.
“Thank you for the meal,” Georgie echoed. Well, at least one good thing came from the blueblood being here: Georgie said thank you without being reminded.
Georgie looked at Declan, probably waiting for a clue to his next move. She understood why. Something about Declan telegraphed “man.” It wasn’t his face, although he was heart stoppingly handsome, if grim. He had a great build and he carried himself well, but that wasn’t quite it either. It wasn’t his swords, or his cloak, or his leathers. It was something unidentifiable, something in his eyes or in the air he projected, something she couldn’t quite pin down.
For lack of a better word, Declan radiated masculinity. The “depend on him in a dark alley” kind of masculinity. The “hit the bad guy with a chair before he shoots us” kind of masculinity. If they were attacked, he wouldn’t hesitate to put himself between them and the danger, because that’s what men did. The boys didn’t stand a chance.
Under different circumstances, she might not have stood a chance either. But experience had taught her very welclass="underline" bluebloods were to be feared and avoided. All that rock-steady manliness could be an elaborate act. She had to watch her every step.
Declan put a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Georgie hesitated. Getting him to eat was an ordeal lately. He was hungry all the time but ate like a bird, a bite here, a bite there. And if he didn’t eat enough, he got shaky.
Declan chewed, scooped more cereal into his spoon, put it into his mouth, and glanced at Georgie. Georgie fidgeted under the pressure of those green eyes, picked up his own spoon again, and started eating.
“Georgie, you’re staying with Grandma today,” she said.
“Why?”
“It’s not safe to walk to the bus stop or back up from it.”
Declan paused. “You’re going to work? Shouldn’t their safety be your first responsibility?”
“I know my responsibilities well, thank you very much. I don’t work, we don’t eat. It’s that simple.”
They chewed their food. She glanced at Declan. He ate quietly, enjoying his meal. He caught her looking.
“It’s quite good, thank you.”
He had to be used to much better. He was probably just being polite. “You’re welcome,” she murmured.
Georgie stirred in his seat, glancing at her. “Jack said you smelled like William yesterday.”
“Georgie!”
Too late. A predatory light sparked in Declan’s eyes. The blueblood came to life like a shark sensing a drop of blood. “Who’s William?”
“None of your business,” Rose snapped.
“He’s a guy. He likes action figures,” Georgie said helpfully. “He asked Rose on a date, but she didn’t go.”
“Does your sister go on dates often?”
“Every week,” Rose said.
“Never,” Georgie declared at the same time. “It’s because Brad Dillon tried to kidnap her on their last date.”
She stared at him. How did he know that?
“Mémère told me. Brad hit her on the head with a club, and she fried him with her flash. Jack and I liked William okay. But Brad is a scumba—”
“George.” Rose loaded her voice with steel. “Go brush your teeth and wake up your brother.”
He slid off the chair and took off.
Declan leaned forward, his features iced over. “This William. What does he look like?”
“Shockingly handsome,” Rose told him.
“That covers a lot of ground.”
“You don’t need to know what he looks like!”
“Of course I do. If I meet him, I’ll have to discourage him from courting you. You don’t want me to assault some random stranger, do you?”
She took her bowl to the sink.
“Rose,” he called. “This is important. What does William look like?”
Rose rinsed out her bowl, glanced up to the window, and saw Leanne Ogletree on the path to her house, striding forward in a determined fashion. A worried expression pinched Leanne’s face into a pale mask. If a big pink elephant with rainbow wings had appeared at the end of the path, Rose would’ve been less surprised. The words died on her lips. Now what?
Declan came to stand by her. “Who is that?”
“The former bane of my existence. Stay inside, please.”
Rose braced herself and stepped out onto the porch.
Leanne walked up to the steps. She was a thin, narrow-hipped woman, who seemed to consist entirely of sharp angles: sharp elbows, prominent knees, defined face, and a stare, which, as Rose knew from experience, could slice like a knife. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other for the last four years. Rose kept to herself, and Leanne wasn’t a social butterfly either, not since Sarah Walton married and moved away. The few times they had run into each other in public, they’d silently conspired to ignore each other’s presence.