Something about this pub makes me let out my breath. People here aren’t in such a rush. They greet each other as they walk in the door. There’s a group of women my age crowded around a table in the corner, cackling like a coven of witches. Everyone knows everyone. There’s a whole community here – people who’ll look after you when something shitty happens. I wish I had that. IthoughtI had that, until Claire and Patrick?—
My wandering gaze grinds to a halt as I clock the man at the end of the bar.
Holy Aragorn, heir of Isildur. My breath stills in my throat.
I can’t explain the sensation that washes over me as I drink him in. I came to Argleton to get lost from my shitty life, but as I watch him, I wish more than anything that I could be found.
For one thing, he looks about as pleased with life as I do. His broad shoulders slump over a glass of red wine. Eyes the colour of anthracite, flecked with ripples of silver, study the contents of the glass as though they contain the secrets of the universe. He wears an exquisitely tailored jacket that’s about two centuries out of fashion.
Period clothing in a country pub is avibe.
Andthat vibe issexy AF.
I’m aware that I’m staring, my jaw wide open like I’m a Venus flytrap with a ravenous hunger. I quickly turn back to my drink just in time to see an unremarkable man with a skeevy smile slide onto the stool next to me.
“Can I buy you another drink, love?” The man’s arm brushes against mine, too close for a stranger.
Instantly, I become a cat protecting my personal territorial bubble – back rigid, hair raised, ready to scratch out some eyeballs if required.
“I’m meeting a friend,” I say quickly, my stock-standard response for when creepy guys try to hit on me in bars.
“When your friend gets here, she can sit on my knee.” He leans in close. I cringe away from the beer-and-mouldy-cheese scent of his breath. “Oryoucan sit on my knee, if you like.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” I turn away from him.
“My name’s Danny. What’s yours, love?” Danny leans in even closer. I jerk away as his stubble brushes my cheek. “I want to know what name I’ll be screaming later.”
“I’m not interested, thanks.”
“I heard you tell our lovely barkeep Lilac that you’re going to be staying above the pub tonight. Lucky for you, I’ll be down the hall. I could sneak over later. You can be my Republic of Ireland, since lookin’ at you my penis is Dublin.” He leers at me with a smile that I suspect is supposed to be charming. “I want you to taste my lucky charms.”
“Leave me alone.” I try to scoot out of the other side of the seat, but he grabs my thigh.
I freeze.
“You’re an uptight bitch, aren’t you? Think you’re too good for someone like me?” Danny’s fingers dig into my flesh. He latches onto my shoulder with his other hand, trying to force me to turn towards him. My heart hammers in my chest. I shrink away from his leering face, his cheeks flush with liquor. Every self-defence lesson I’ve ever had flies straight out of my head?—
“Excuse me,” a deep voice behind me says. “My darling, I’m sorry I’m late. Is thisman bothering you?”
Danny’s hand drops from my shoulder.
I whirl around. My surprise catches in my throat.
The voice belongs to the shadowy stranger at the end of the bar. Only, he’s no longer draped in shadow but standing right beside me, his stance rigid, protective. He places a hand on the small of my back, and, unlike Danny’s unwanted grope, the touch of his fingers lights a fuse in my stomach.
His eyes lock with mine, his full lips quirking up on one side with an unasked question.
Understanding dawns.Hot sulky Aragorn is saving my arse.
“Hello, um,darling,” I manage to choke out, pretending that there is a universe where someone as beautiful as this man could possibly be dating me. “I didn’t see you there. I tried to save this seat for you, but?—”
My rescuer fixes his anthracite eyes on Danny. Beneath the low lighting of the bar, the flecks of silver at the edges of his irises appear to glow.
“Hey mate, I don’t want any trouble.” Danny raises his hands in mock surrender. “I was just chatting with your girl.”
“It didn’t look like you were chatting. It looked as if you were touching her when she specifically told you that she wasn’t interested.”
How does he know that? He was sitting too far away and the pub was too noisy for my voice to carry.
