“Yes,” she managed. “I do understand how disguises work.”
The noise he made might have been a laugh, might have been disbelief.
She found her courage again. “Why is it so difficult to believe, Bull?” she bristled. “I am not some little girl right out of the schoolroom?—”
“That’sexactlywhat ye are.”
“I am one and twenty. Old enough to know my own mind and my own future.”
Bull bent over her head. “I ken how auld ye are, trust me. I’m aulder.”
Oh, is that what this was about?She sighed. “Not this again. Do you honestly believe those fifteen years make you better than me?”
He didn’t respond for a moment, but his fingers stilled against her scalp. “Ye ken how auld I am?”
I know everything about you.
The fact that he was surprised by this was a little depressing.
So Rosie just tried to shrug nonchalantly, pretending as if he wasn’t driving her mad with desire with a simple haircut. “I know you are older than me, Bull, and you have likely learned plenty in those years, plenty I have not yet learned. But do you honestly believe yourself to bebetterthan me? Is that why you are irritated by my inclusion in this scheme?”
“I dinnae think myself better than ye.” His answer was growled, but he didn’t add anything else.
His work carried around to the front of her head, and Rosie tipped her head back to study him as he focused on her locks and very stalwartly didnotmeet her eyes.
“If I had come to you as myself and offered myself—I mean, offered myhelpon this case, you would have refused it,” Rosie said quietly, and when he didn’t respond, she pressed. “Correct?”
“Aye,” he grunted, still not meeting her gaze. “Ye’re a gentle-bred lassie. Daughter of a duke. Ye shouldnae be wrapped up in all of this messiness.”
Except…her family already was.Hisfamily was too, thanksto Allie’s great-grandfather’s involvement. And Bull had accepted help from Merida…
“Why is Merida acceptable to be involved in allthis messiness?” She tried to keep her tone even, not to let him know his nonchalance hurt her. “She is my cousin.”
But she is not gently-bred. All of Society knows she is her natural father’s by-blow, adopted by a disgraced daughter of an earl and a simple chemist with ties to the underworld.
Rosie knew it. But she wanted Bull to say it.
He did not.
When she glanced at him again it was to see his jaw clenched, his eyes spitting with silent anger as he focused on her hair. Hadshemade him angry? Her questions? Or her presence?
The thought made her feel…small somehow, and his touch was no longer quite so magical.
He thought her less than Merida? Less than Hunter and Gabby, whom he’d employed before their marriages? Less than his step-sister Marcia, who had helpedfoundthe Bull Lindsay Detective Group?
Rosie swallowed. She might be younger than all of them, but surely she could be as useful?
Abruptly, Bull straightened. “Done. Ye look much better. Especially now that monstrosity of a mustache is gone.”
“Oh.” Rosie focused on brushing the hairs from her borrowed smock. “Right. Thank you.”
A large, tanned hand appeared in front of her face, and she followed the arm up to his shoulder, to his neck and jawand mouth and eyes. He was still wearing only the shirt—no tie, no waistcoat, no jacket—and Rosie didn’t think she’d ever seen him looking more handsome.
“Come on,” Bull said, almost gently. “I’ll show ye yer costume.”
Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his and he gently lifted her to her feet. As she moved to look in the mirror, Bull brushed more hair from her shoulders and back…but she couldn’t focus on his touch because…
Because her reflection in the mirror…
