Seeing him dig into his plate with gusto, she picked up her fork and took a bite of the sturgeon.Mmm.Warm and buttery, the fish melted in her mouth. She suddenly realized how hungry she was. Taking small bites of the delicious food and sipping the wine he poured for her, she savored the intimacy of having supper with her lover—of feeling like an adult.
Watching him polish off his plate, she marveled, “How can you eat like that and stay so fit?”
“I take regular exercise.” He helped himself to more pie.
“What sort?”
“Boxing, mostly. I like to stay in fighting shape.”
That explained his physique. Thinking of his hard, disciplined form, she had to squeeze her legs together to quell a wicked tingle. “Why do you have to stay in fighting shape?”
“Brawls, mainly. My customers may be fine gents but throw spirits and wenches into the mix…” He shrugged, as if no further explanation was necessary. “My guards generally keep the peace. I only step in when I have to.”
She gnawed on her bottom lip. “What if you get injured?”
He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “You’re worried aboutmegetting hurt when you were shot at?”
“I have you and Papa to protect me. I’m perfectly safe,” she said confidently. “You aren’t, however, if you’re wading into the thick of things.”
He set down his fork and reached for her hand. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Trusting me with your safety.” His gaze was heated, intense. “Caring about mine.”
“You’re welcome,” she said softly.
“Speaking of your safety,”—he let go of her hand to pull something out of the greatcoat he’d slung over his chair—“I have something for you.”
Brimming with curiosity, she took the white silk pouch from him. She untied the strings and pulled out the contents.
Her gaze bounced to his. “You brought me apistol?”
“For added protection. It’s a ladies piece, designed to fit in a purse or skirt pocket. Don’t judge it by its size: while small, it shoots as well as any gun.”
Fascinated by the petite weapon, she turned it over in her hands, admiring the fine craftsmanship. “What a darling mother-of-pearl handle. And are those flowers stamped in the metal?” she said in delight. “Why, this would look most fetching with my silver reticule…”
At the silence that greeted her, she looked up. Andrew had those crinkles around his eyes, the ones that made him look even more dashingly attractive.
“What is so amusing?” she said.
“You.” His mouth twitched. “You do realize that the pistol is more than an accessory?”
“Well, yes. But it doesn’t hurt if something looks prettyandhas a sensible function, does it?” She gave the pistol a loving pat. “Thank you for the lovely and thoughtful gift.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled slowly. “I’ll teach you how to shoot it, too.”
After that, conversation turned to everyday topics. Andrew was easy to talk to and apparently interested in her mundane (compared to his) existence. As she told him about how she was settling into the house, she was reminded of a problem—one that she wanted to give him fair warning about.
How on earth do I bring this up… without sounding forward?
“I’ve been trying to decide what furnishings to keep and what to have, um,”—her cheeks warmed as a specific item flashed in her mind—“… removed.”
He glanced around the feminine sitting room. “This room is quite tasteful.”
“To use Mr. Mayhew’s discreet turn of phrase, Daltry used this house to entertain hisspecial friends,” she said dryly. “I do believe the previous occupant was one of his mistresses.”
“Ah. Does that bother you?”
