CHAPTER 4
“Whereisthat girl? Ember! My pillows are not arranged correctly.Ember!”
The screeching from the front hall brought Max to a stop. Cautiously, he tilted his head to one side and listened. Yep, that was Baroness Oliphant, the harpy who ran the inn. She must be searching for one of her servant girls, and Max had no interest in walking in on her in her current mood.
Wasn’t there a back stairway? He’d use that to get up to his room instead.
Decision made, he spun on his heel and hurried toward the back of the building where the corridor ran alongside the kitchens. But a surprisingly familiar sound distracted him, and he found himself frowning in confusion.
It was the delicate sound of a graver chipping away at a piece of metal.
He’d gotten used to it over the last few days at Oliphant Engraving, the sounds of the engravers in the warehouse almost omnipresent, but he hadn’t expected it here at the inn.
He took a little detour and came across a small room beside the kitchen; the close stone walls causing the sounds to echo. Since the door was slightly ajar, he stepped in, and his brows rose in surprise. It was another workshop, though a much smaller version of the artists’ studio at Oliphant Engraving. The larger machines—the presses and the drills and lathes—were missing of course, but on one wall hung an assortment of gravers and scribes and mallets.
“What’s all this?” he murmured.
It wasn’t until the figure hunched over a workbench startled and began to straighten, that he’d realized he’d spoken out loud. He began to apologize, but when the person turned completely around, and he realized who it was, something else entirely escaped his lips.
“You!” Of course, then he winced, realizing how accusatory it had sounded. “Oh, I am sorry, I just had not expected…”
Max shook his head, knowing he was making a hash of things. The serving girl—because it most definitely was the pretty servant who’d run into him, and she was still wearing that hideous cap—stood gaping at him, her dark eyes wide, a graver in one hand and a curved piece of metal in the other.
“I’m sorry for barging in.” He offered his most charming grin. “I was curious about the noise and couldn’t help but investigate.” He shrugged. “I guess I should learn to rein in my curiosity. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What? Oh, no!” She shook her head, then spun back around and placed the metal piece in a little box, obviously full of half-completed projects. “No, there is no need to apologize.” As she crossed to the racks of tools to hang up the graver, she sent him ashy little smile. “As a guest of the inn, you are allowed to wander wherever you like on the public floors. I was just surprised to see you. Few guests realize this place is back here.”
Well, if she was willing to talk to him, Max wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She had the prettiest, smoothest voice; far more cultured and refined than he’d expect from a serving lass, with just a hint of the Highlands.
Figuring he could listen to her talk forever, Max crossed his arms and leaned a hip against one of the workbenches. “And I was surprised to find a metal engraver’s workshop in the inn.”
“You know what this place is?” Before the question was even complete, her expression cleared. “Oh, you are an American, are you not?”
“I am.” He didn’t bother hiding the pleased grin.
“I can tell by your marvelous accent. You must have arrived with Mr. DeVille. Have you spent time at Oliphant Engraving? Is that how you know about metal engraving?”
Blinking, he tried to follow her jumps in logic. She thought he’d arrivedwithMr. DeVille?
But when he opened his mouth to set her straight, something entirely different came out. “You think my accent is marvelous?”
She chuckled as she wiped her hands on a rag, cleaning off the engravers’ oil. “Of course. It is a well-known fact the American accent is just heavenly to listen to. In comparison, Scottish men sound positively dull!”
“Really? I thinkyouraccent is charming.”
Was he flirting with her? He was, wasn’t he?
Ember waved her hand. “Do not be silly. Your voice is much more appealing.”
When she smiled at him, his body’s reaction was visceral: something reached down into his stomach and tugged, and he felt his cock harden in response.
Down, cowboy.
Clearing his throat, he shifted his stance, hoping to hide his arousal. “Yeah, well, we might have to agree to disagree on that one.” Hurrying to distract her, he asked, “But what is this place? Is it a part of Oliphant Engraving?”
And why didn’t I know about it?
She waved her hand dismissively, then reached behind her back to untie the heavy leather apron the engravers and machinists all wore. On her it looked big, as if it had been sized for a man.
