Page 71 of Pride: The Rogue
Latimer ignored her fingers. Rattled, unnerved, and bloody angry for reasons he didn’t understand, his threadbare patience snapped. “At least, one of us learned something in our time together.”
He caught Livian quick about her hips. The minx emitted a startled little squeak as he set her forcefully on her feet.
Her smile fell.
“Oh, great wise one, do tell me what lessonyougleaned and what exactly is it you think I failed to gain from your esteemed presen—”
“What I gleaned?”
Latimer gnashed his teeth. Here he was, repeating himself,again. “I’ve learned when it comes to ensuring you don’t getyourself killed or from meeting some other worse fate, you don’t have the wisdom God gave a hen.”
“Have you ever had a chicken, Lachlan?”
That casually delivered question effectively stultified him.
Livian bent her arms at her elbows and made a pecking motion with her chin. “A chicken.”
“I know what a damned chicken is,” he snapped. “Of course I’ve had one.”
“Notto eat.”
Oh.
This chit excelled in upending a fellow.
Latimer found his footing.
“Like as a pet?” he drawled.
Livian nodded solemnly.
The seriousness of that little bob at odds with the way she still maintained her chicken pose.
“Should I take your silence as a ‘no’, Lachlan?” she asked when he didn’t answer.
Was she trying to drive him mad? Or did the skill just come naturally to the feisty chit?
“No, I don’t have pet chickens,” he said, exasperated.
Livian gave him a pitying look. “I assumed as much.”
He couldn’t help himself. “And I trustyouhave?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, as though it were the most ludicrous thing in the world to imagineLachlanhimself hadn’t. “I only realized how great my father’s financial struggles were when he arrived with a pair of chickens for us to make meals of.”
That reminder of her stark childhood tempered his earlier annoyance and grounded him with fury and regret at the hardships she’d known.
Given her wide smile as she spoke, however? One would never gather she told anything other than the happiest tale.
“I cried at the thought of Blue Fairy dying.” She paused. “You didn’t ask why I named her Blue Fairy?”
“I trust she had blue feathers?” he drawled.
“A dorking fowl?” She snorted. “No. Blue Fairy had the customary, beautiful salmon breast and silver neck hackles. I named her Blue Fairy as I told my sister and Bertha she was a magical hen. I had the idea we keep her forever. She could be our pet and in exchange, Blue Fairy would provide us eggs, and I pointed out that would last us far longer than a single meal.”
“Clever, lass,” he murmured.
Livian gathered her dress on either side and dipped an exaggerated curtsy.
