Page 72 of Pride: The Rogue
Fascinated, he didn’t know how they’d gotten to this particular story. What he did know, is she told a compelling yarn.
“And you had eggs then for years.”
She sighed. “Alas, I fear not. Blue Fairy produced but three eggs each week—on a good week. Given we weren’t able to provide her with a proper diet, she underperformed.”
Livian brightened. “But she was a lovely pet and member of the family.”
That sobering, sad turn, the expected reality for people like him and her, tugged at a corner of his chest that hadn’t ever been tugged before.
“In my time with Blue Fairy, Lachlan, I learned a great deal about chickens. They’re very self-aware, and excellent problem-solvers.”
“Problem solvers?”
This time, he didn’t even care he repeated himself.
Livian nodded vigorously.
“Whenever there was an obstacle in Blue Fairy’s path, she could find her way around it. Why, she could even manipulate objects that’d been put up to do so.”
The minx gave him a long, obvious stare, indicating she expected Latimer’s input.
He sighed. “And just what objects would she—?”
“The door! My sister was adamant Blue Fairy not sleep in our room, on account chickens are not the cleanest, but, Blue Fairy always found a way to reach me.”
His head spinning, Latimer struggled to get himself back to what the hell that’d led them down Livian’s garrulous path.
Then, with a pleased smile, Livian headed back down the muddied road.
Which brought Latimer right back to remembering: Livian. Livian pretending she’d had a driver for company and was leaving behind Latimer. Livian lying, and—
“You’re out here, alone, and we’re talking about bloody chickens,” he thundered.
Livian turned back and scowled at him. “Au contraire.”
At me? She’s angry with me?
Livian lifted a finger and wagged it his way. “You werelearningabout chickens. I, despite your earlier insistence, have learned nothing from you.” She paused. “That is, anything of use.”
Latimer saw red, bright, fiery crimson. Just thinking about all the harm that could’ve befallen her, had his temper flaring.
“You don’t have the benefit of a bloody servant,” he shouted, “a companion, or feral cat—”
She narrowed her eyes in warning. “Have a care, Mr. Latimer. Compare me to another animal one more time, and I won’t be so forgiving.”
Knowing the fiery termagant meant that, he took a steadying breath.
“Where is your driver?” He glanced about, almost hoping to see that fellow when he did. That way, he’d know the chit wasn’t as foolhardy as he feared.
“As you can see, this particular conveyance is stuck, and as such, he’s gone ahead to reach the other carriage. He’ll return shortly.”
Latimer closed his eyes.
“On what did you base that estimate, Livian?”
She smiled. “Optimism and hope.”
Optimism and hope?
