“Mrs. Hannan, right?” he asked, holding out a hand.
“Why . . . yes.” Tilly gave him her hand despite her confusion. Why would he flatter her so much if he knew she was married? “Do you know my husband?”
The man bent and planted a kiss that lasted a beat too long on the back of her hand. It took everything Tilly had not to yank her hand away.
“I do,” he said. “A smart man, though sometimes too ambitious for his own good.”
Tilly shifted away as subtly as she could. Something about this man made her wary. She glanced over his shoulder, hoping to spot someone she knew, but their names blended together. She returned her attention to the man standing in front of her. “What do you mean?”
He smiled again and ran a hand over his neatly combed blond hair. “It’s nothing for a lady to concern herself with. Now,satisfy my curiosity and tell me when you and my friend Hannan were married. I can’t imagine it’s been very long.”
Was Liam friendly with this man? Tilly had a hard time picturing that. She hadn’t known her husband long, but every acquaintance of his she’d met so far had been genuinely friendly. And not a one of them made her wish she’d ensconced herself in another conversation instead of loitering alone in the corner. “Only a few days,” she said.
“I see. What fascinating timing.”
Tilly narrowed her eyes ever so slightly in confusion. “What—”
“Tilly!”
She turned at the sound of Liam calling her name. Thank goodness! Perhaps he could pry her away from his “friend.” She smiled at him as he approached.
He caught her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but he didn’t return her smile. Instead, he frowned and asked, “Who was that fellow you were speaking with just now?”
“Oh! You mean . . .” But when she turned to gesture at the man who’d made her so uncomfortable, he was gone. Tilly blinked and looked around. Surely he couldn’t have gotten too far away, not in this crowd. But she couldn’t find him anywhere. “I didn’t get his name.”
Liam’s gaze flicked across the people in the room as he stood at her side. “What did he say to you?”
“The strangest things,” she replied, glad for the safety of her hand in his. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“If it’s who I think it is, not at all.” Liam’s voice held an edge as he continued to look around the room.
Tilly swallowed. “He knew who you were, and that we were married. He said something about you being very ambitious, and then . . .” She paused. “What is it? Is he dangerous?” The last word rolled off her tongue with a slight tremble.
Liam turned back to her. “Yes. I don’t know why he’s here and I don’t mean to frighten you, but we need to leave.” He started to lead her through the people toward where their coats were hanging from a rack in the hallway. As he helped her with her coat, his gaze wandered the faces around them. Tilly looked too, but no one in sight resembled the man she’d spoken to by the Christmas tree.
“Wait here a moment,” Liam said as he opened the front door.
Tilly twisted her hands together as he went outside alone. After a moment, he returned and held out his hand.
“I don’t see him out here. He must have made himself scarce once he realized that I’d seen him,” he said as they stepped outside.
The walk back to the hotel was tense. Tilly wished they could see everywhere at once. The darkness and silence made the usually friendly town feel so much more threatening.
She’d never been so happy to arrive safely back at the hotel. “If this man is dangerous, do you suppose you should notify my brother?” she asked as they climbed the stairs. She couldn’t help but cast her eyes downward, looking for a shock of blond hair among every man down below.
Liam made a groaning sound. “If I have to. I’d prefer to handle this myself.”
Tilly nodded, although she didn’t necessarily agree. After all, a man with a badge and gun was far more intimidating to someone who might wish to do them harm.
“Liam?” she asked when they arrived at their door.
He paused, hand on the doorknob.
“Who is he?”
Liam sighed and rubbed a tired hand across his forehead. “Dutch Rodgers. The man I borrowed money from last summer. The one whose men kidnapped Deirdre.”
