“We should,” Phoebe said.
“Wine?” he asked. His voice smooth and hard at the same time.
A type of unrestrained energy vibrated from him. She’d never sensed it before. It wasn’t threatening, nor was it frightening—on the contrary, it invigorated the length of her. There wassomething raw and undoubtedly male about him, putting her senses on alert.
“Yes, please,” she said.
He proceeded to fill the goblet next to her on the table. As he poured, the full-bodied aroma of the burgundy liquid mingled with Slade’s particular scent of cloves and soap. She found herself taking a deep inhale.
“Something about you looks different this evening,” he said, his eyes still on the wine.
Had he been looking at her? Instead of hyperventilating, as she would have expected when attention was focused on her appearance, her skin tightened. Phoebe kept the pitch of her voice lower than usual.
“Necessity demanded I borrow one of Lucia’s gowns. But my hopes of not drawing attention to my attire is apparently dashed to bits,” Phoebe said.
“A man would have to be missing a pulse not to notice you in this gown.” His voice was low and gruff.
Her cheeks grew hot at his words. But was it a compliment or sarcasm?
“Are you finding everything to your liking?” he asked, looking up at her after filling the goblet.
“Yes,” she said, then thought of her earlier ablutions and how much she wanted to take a full bath. “But I would dearly love a portable tub.”
Somehow mentioning something as necessary and mundane as a bath took on an intimate quality as she blinked at him. His green gaze took on the color of emeralds in the candlelight.
CHAPTER 21
“I’ll have the stable hand bring in a tub,” Slade said with a shuttered expression, before turning and walking away.
After taking a deep steadying inhale she stepped over to the sideboard. Phoebe placed a sample of all the food on her plate, except for the apple tarts.
She did, however, serve herself a healthy portion of plum pudding. Since she was a wee bairn, plum pudding had been her absolute favorite. From the buttery cinnamon scent mixed with the sugary decadence of plums wafting up from this one, it was going to be an absolute treat. She carried her plate back to the table and took her seat.
Peter eyed Slade as he filled his glass. “Since you’ll be returning to the Highlands soon, I thought I could accompany you to drum up some more business.”
“Oh, I’d love to accompany you and help with the gunsmithy’s business. In fact, it sounds like a marvelous adventure for us all to travel to the Highlands,” Lucia cut in, in a delighted trill.
Surprise, pleasure and thoughtfulness flashed across Peter’s features. “It’s a long and grueling journey, my love.”
“But you’ll take care of me, won’t you, dearest?” Lucia pouted at Peter.
“Well … yes … of course my love.” Peter managed to look hesitant and utterly besotted all at the same time.
“Then it’s settled. Besides, the colonel will be with us. Will you be returning to Scotland, Phoebe?” Lucia said, shifting to face Phoebe.
Phoebe paused mid-chew, considering. She was very interested in Bolingbroke’s Glenfinnan mission. She would have to let Falcon know. But it was a good opportunity to warn her father about the English move to break the power of the Scottish Clan Chiefs.
“It’s quite possible that I may,” Phoebe said.
Lucia looked quite pleased with this answer.
Slade strode to the chair next to Phoebe, a full plate in his hand as he sent a cursory glance in Peter’s direction. “Do you have any specific potential customers in mind?”
The awareness of Slade returned, seeping into every inch of Phoebe’s skin. She didn’t know what to do with it or what it meant, so she concentrated on ignoring it as she took another bite of food.
“Wouldn’t your father and brother be interested in a demonstration?” Peter asked.
A grimace stretched across Slade’s features. “It’s possible. But I’m certain we’ll be able to interest some of the neighboring clans.”
