Heknew, with all certainty, why she’d hidden her identity. He knew why Merida had been so relaxed with the scholar, knew why he’d been so antsy around this particular art scholar, knew why she’d manufactured this ridiculous costume and even more outrageous mustache.
Knew why his body was reacting to holding her in his arms even now.
Bull was already growling with rage when he managed to utter her name. “Rosie.”
CHAPTER 4
Oh, perfidious cockwobbler!
Fatuous bunglewank!
What was that one curse Da sometimes used?
Fooking hell.
Rosiesawthe realization flash across Bull’s face, and knew with dread in her stomach what he was going to say before he growled, “Rosie?” in the tone of someone who could not believe what they’re seeing.
Perhaps he cannot. Your mustacheisquite luxurious.
His grip tightened on her upper arms. “Rosie,” he hissed, shaking her a bit. “Swear to Christ, tell me I’m wrong?”
Her chin went up. She was not about to be cowed. “You are not,” she announced in her normal voice.
His lovely gray eyes flashed with what looked like pain, then closed briefly. “Fooking hell.”
Her mustache twitched. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
His eyes snapped open and the glare he sent her way could have melted butter. “What theshitewere ye thinking?” He yanked her closer, to peer down at her face. “Rosie, ye could’ve been?—”
Been what?
Ruined?
Hurt?
Exposed to the scandalous excesses ofart?
Her brows drew in and she stiffened, trying to pull herself out of his hold. “I could have been many things, Bull, including ignored by you.” She succeeded in stepping away from him, or perhaps she’d shocked him into releasing her.
Rosie did her best to glare up at him. “Or, if Merida and I had come to you and explained thatyes,actually, I have spent the last five years studying exactly what you need to know…” Where had she been going with that sentence? Bother, he really was delicious. Oh yes. “Would you have accepted my help?”
Bull gaped at her, waving his hands wildly as though grasping for something to cling onto. “Ye—ye wanted to work for—ye didnae want paying?”
What in all the hells was the point of that? “Of course I do not want paying,” Rosie huffed in exasperation. “The subject of Allie’s painting looks just likemy mother, Bull! This ismyinvestigation now as well!”
He frowned down at her in confusion, his fingers flexing as if he wanted to reach for her, and she took pity on him.
It was hard not to. “I am sorry I lied, Bull?—”
“Bullshite,” he growled, and as he opened his mouth to say something else, an imperious voice broke through.
“Well? Bull, dear, are you not going to go after the nefarious evil-doer?”
Rosie’s gaze swung toward the old woman toddling toward them, the one she’d been introduced to earlier.
The Countess was leaning heavily on the arm of a butlery-looking man, and was waving toward the foyer. “Go! Go, Bull, see if you can catch him!”
Bull looked torn, his gaze flashing between the old woman and Rosie. Finally, with a growl, he stepped backward. “Get yer hat,” he hissed to her. “And meet me out front!” He inclined his head to the Countess. “I’ll update ye, Eliza.”
