Page 2 of The Tantalizing of a Scandalous Rake

Nor would she get used to obviously wealthy men tripping over their tongues at the mere sight of her. However, she did not mind the effect right now. She’d watched him all evening, watched the arrogant smirk spread across his face every time he won. If she could make him feel a little uncomfortable then she would not complain.

“Sir, you are driving my customers away.”

He recovered more quickly than she would have liked, the slanted smile slipping back into place. “Perhaps it is the quality of your ale driving them away, miss.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “My ale is the best in Buttermere.”

“I had better at the Eight Bells.”

“That’s a lie.”

He lifted his shoulders. “Yours is weaker.” He grinned. “No doubt you water it down now you have more patrons to cater to.”

“How dare you.” She moved closer to the table with a glance at the observers around them. “I would never do such a thing.”

After five years of running the pub, she knew well how to deal with all kinds of men—drunken men, angry men, sad men...even smug, attractive men like this one. Though, he was by far the most attractive man to set food in her place in, well, ever.

Unfortunately, he likely knew it too. Blue eyes, slightly tanned complexion, carefully tousled curls that revealed hints of gold amongst the brown in the lamplight. His lips were the most distracting part of him. Or perhaps it was the pale scar on the bridge of his nose. But that did not matter. Did she not know that looks did not make the person? Whilst her new reputation might be bringing increased profits, it was her hard work and shrewdness that ensured the continued patronage of her customers.

So why was she letting him make her angry?

“It is your card playing that is driving my patrons away,” she said firmly. “If you continue, I shall have to request you leave.”

“Well, that seems mightily unfair. I have already spent far more than half of these gawkers on ale and supper.”

“You seem to think your coin is worth more than dozens of patrons.” She shook her head. “Regardless of your worth, sir, I shall not have gambling in my inn.”

“Theyare gambling.” He gestured to a table near the fireplace.

“With buttons.”

“So I am to entertain myself with buttons?” His dark brows lifted.

Rosie sighed. She should have known such a man would not take well to being told what to do. She didn’t know his name nor his station, but the beautifully cut country jacket combined with a dark blue waistcoat trimmed in gold told her enough. He came from the sort of wealth that meant he could lose many fortunes and hardly blink. Unfortunately, he had yet to lose or else he might have quit her inn some time ago.

“Frankly, sir, I do not care how you entertain yourself. So long as you do not drive my customers away.”

He pursed his lips. “A drink with you.”

“Pardon?”

“We can share an ale, you can persuade me it is the best in Buttermere, and I shall vow to quit gambling.”

“Or I could have you flung out on your rear.”

“Oh?” He glanced around and his grin turned wicked. “Will you be doing the flinging?”

She cursed under her breath. Usually Simon would manage the rabble but he was with his wife who was on the verge of giving birth to their first child. And Harriet was almost a head smaller than herself. There was a chance she could ask one of the patrons to aid her if she needed to physically remove him, but she risked a riot if she did so. Whilst the quality of the patronage had increased since that book had been published, even the wealthier men were only one inciting incident away from a brawl—as she knew too well. Men deep in their cups could not be counted on to keep the calm at the best of times.

But if she drank with him, every blasted man in the building would want one with her.

“One ale,” he pressed. “What harm could it do?”

She unfolded her arms and shook her head in frustration. “Fine. One ale.” She gestured to Harriet with two fingers and sank onto the chair opposite. Harriet brought over the drinks. Rosie ignored her curious stare, reached for the ale and put the tankard to her lips. Keeping eye contact with the man, she tilted the drink back and drained it in one go. The man’s grin widened when she set the tankard down and swiped her lips with the back of a hand.

“One drink, sir, and now you must cease your behavior.”

“That was a little unfair.”

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