By no means of stretch of the imagination was it scandalous, but it wasn't as demure as any of my other dresses.
"It suits you," she'd said with a grin when I'd tried it on. Now, as I stood at the threshold of the common room with Bess's steady hand on my shoulder, I wasn't so sure. Every glance of the patrons on me felt sharper, heavier, as though they could see right through me.
They could tell how inexperienced I was.
How much of an easier target I was.
"Head up, shoulders back," Bess murmured, her voice gruff but not unkind. "They'll smell fear quicker than spilled gin. And remember what I told you. If anyone lays a hand on you without leave, Tom will toss them out on their ears."
I swallowed hard, nodding. My pulse was so loud I thought surely everyone would hear it, even over the noise in the room, and the fiddler playing away in the corner.
"If you're not ready yet, honey, you can go on back to the kitchen. I sure could use the help in there."
I looked back at her, forcing a tremulous smile. "No, Bess. I appreciate it, but I need the extra money."
The room bustled, tankards clinking, dice clattering against tables, laughter rising in waves. The other girls weaved through it with practiced ease. I drew in a breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped into the storm.
Under Erika's careful tutelage, I got my first order and headed to the bar, telling Tom what I needed. The first tray I carried shook so badly I nearly sloshed the tankards over the rim. But the burly sailor who ordered them only laughed and called me a sweet lass, so I counted it a victory.
The second time, I forgot which table wanted the rabbit pie and which wanted the stew, and my cheeks burned as the men bellowed and teased. Before I could stammer an apology, Erika swooped in, winking at me as she sent a cheeky smile to the men at the table. "First day nerves," she announced as though it were something to be proud of, not an annoying burden.
With a bawdy joke, a full-chested laugh and another wink—this time directed at the men—she righted the order and sent me on my way to the next table to take their order. On my way there she whispered to me. "You've got this. Big smile now, remember a friendly word and a bright face goes a long way."
And slowly, I began to believe her. It was busy, yes. And I made some more mistakes, but the men in the tavern were all friendly, be it with ale or just because of the atmosphere. Before long, I had enough extra coin in my apron to put a bit more pep in my step. By no means was I a natural, or did I find it easy tointeract with all the personalities, but it had started to feel kind of... enjoyable.
And then it happened.
The air shifted.
It was subtle at first, like a ripple beneath calm water. My skin prickled. The laughter seemed to fade to the edges, my ears straining for something my eyes hadn't seen. The hair at my nape lifted, and I knew, before I turned, that my past had walked straight through the tavern door.
I turned, tray pressed too tightly against my chest.
And there they were.
Oh, dear lord.
Leighton and Magnus. They looked so out of place in this smoky, bustling room, and yet commanding it with their very presence. The people around them seemed to stay out of their direct sphere, almost avoiding them.
My breath caught, my heart stuttering painfully against my ribs.
Our eyes collided across the crowded room, and everything inside me stilled. The laughter, the clatter of mugs, even Erika's encouraging grin... it all blurred into nothing.
There was only me. And them.
Leighton inclined his head the barest fraction, a gentleman's acknowledgment that still managed to pin me in place. Magnus didn't bother with subtlety. His gaze swept me head to toe, lingering on the chokerstillsnug at my throat, his expression predatory and unmistakably furious.
I couldn't breathe.
What were they doing here?
Over the last couple of weeks I'd been so certain they had all but forgotten me, and moved onto their next willing victim. A woman willing to pretend with them.
But they werehere.
Why?
And then... they chose a table. A quiet one, tucked in the corner, one of the few empty ones left. My lungs stuttered back into working just in time to watch Marta sashay over, tray balanced on her hip, her smile sly and self-satisfied. She leaned just a bit too close as she fiddled with her hair, clearly eager to lap up whatever coin or attention they might bestow.
