Some things truly never changed.
“Might we avoid further violence untilafterwe talk?” he suggested. When she still didn’t lower her fighter’s stance, he added, “A man without his teeth is hard to understand—and it’d be hard for you to avoid the inevitable spittle.”
There!
A twitch of her lips. One that set his heart racing.
“You? Less than perfect? Thetonwould surely see it as the end of days,” she said mockingly.
“A compelling argument to spit out a mouthful of teeth.” He took a step closer and tilted his head to give her better access to his jaw. “Aim for the top row. Better shock value if the front two are missing.”
Her brow raised, so she was not completely unmoved by his attempt at humor. “What of the rest?”
He sighed. “I would prefer to keep the bicuspids at least. I do so enjoy good beef steak. Makes me feel like a real predator when I can shred the meat from the bone.”
Vulgar, descriptive words to make her smile.
She rolled her eyes instead. “Those are canine teeth, not bicuspids.”
Really?He frowned. Canine. “Like a dog?”
Her mouth pursed. Dare he hope it was to keep humor at bay?
He pushed. “Latin was never my subject. I know, I know; I am a shame to the duchy.”
“Yes.” She snorted. “However, will thetonforgive a man as rich as Midas?”
“The boy who flew too close to the sun?”
“That was Icarus.” She sighed. “I take it you never grasped Greek Mythology, either? Always Tantalus with the knowledge just out of reach.”
He winced and tried again. “The man who had to roll the stone up a hill forever?”
“That was Sisyphus.”
“An unfortunate name.”
“Better than Prometheus.” At his pause, she continued, “The Titan who had his liver eaten every day by a vulture.”
Jackson pulled at his collar. “You are certainly better versed in a man’s torture than this particular gentleman.”
“And better read.” She smirked.
So did he.
And there it was again: the feeling of freedom, of comradery. As if the past years apart had never happened. Anna had never cared for titles. Never been impressed with wealth or status. Certainly, never given a fig for the arrogance of a well-to-do duke’s son.
Her fists lowered, and she raised her hood back up, successfully hiding her next expression. “Are we to discuss things here?”
Jackson was tempted to spark her temper, if only so her hood would fall once again. A black eye or two would be worth the view of her bright eyes and slanting mouth.
But he’d need his vision if he were to see through the storm of the next few days.
“My townhome—” He near bit his tongue off to stop such an idiotic idea. She was no locksmith’s daughter any longer. To invite her back to his residence—a lord’s sister—in the middle of the night... Betrothed or not, an unwed woman didn’t enter a man’s home without chaperone at any time of the day.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her gloved forefinger tapping against her forearm.
The impatient gesture had him crushing his next grin before it surfaced. Annabeth Greene wasn’t a woman who cared about appearances or propriety.
