A quiet, unreadable smile curved his lips.
Heart hammering, Lucy whipped her focus back to her family.
Tasgall puffed out his big barrel-chest. “And fer good reason too.”
“Aye, because he doesn’t trust me,” she said frantically.
Nettie let loose one of her rattle-the-crockery snorts; one that managed to penetrate even this kitchen roaring with noise.
The staff paused as one and looked their way.
Unbothered as a cow in clover, Nettie waved at her audience.
That collective audience ceased staring and resumed their work.
Nay. That wasn’t completely accurate. One member of their audience, the braw fellow at the entrance, kept up his watch, and brought Lucy back to her point. “That isnae the look of a lad wary of ye, lass. Well, not entirely. He’s takin’ yer measure, but ye’ve definitely turned his head.” She chortled.
Oh, good, kind baby Jaysus, help me.
“I cannot stay.”
“You certainly can. Did you see the joy you brought that family when you showed up?”
“Because they believe I am someone else, Nettie,” she said, exasperated.
Lucy stole another peek in Arran’s direction.
There.
Contrary to Nettie’s ridiculously romantic imaginings about Arran McQuoid, he’d shifted those incisive eyes elsewhere.
His timepiece.
Panic set up an increased tempo in her chest.
“Well, it isn’t as though ye don’t know the lad,” Tasgall said unhelpfully. “Aye, yer no stranger to him.”
As though she didn’t know him? “I’ve known him but a handful of hours, Tasgall.”
Him and Nettie gave her a peculiar stare.
“Ah, was talkin’ about Mr. Smith, lass.”
Mr. Smith?
Lucy’s eyes went flying open in swift clarity.
Oh, God. Of course! The gentleman she’d been pining over.
Good, kind, gentle, calm Mr. Smith—now unconscious on account of Lucy’s tavern.
He didn’t leave her all off-balance, the kind of topsy-turvy that had a lass forgettin’ her name.
The tavern. “I have to return. The Spotted Elk—”
“Hasn’t had a full night in almost two years now, lass,” Nettie murmured, giving the top of Lucy’s hand a reassuring pat. “Tasgall and I will go back. Ye cannot be rude and run off, Lucy—”
“Especially not after your sign went and brained their lad.” Lucy flinched. “Told her to replace it, I d—oww.”
