Page 38 of House of Thorns
She licked her lips, nervous, feeling quite unlike herself. “I will repay you, after the concert.” Providing she wasn’t a beggar on the streets by then. She glanced up into his face.
His gaze dropped to her mouth before meeting hers once again, and something in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.
“I assure you, that is quite unnecessary,” he said.
Unnecessary? It took her a moment to remember the subject. Ah, the roof. “I do not accept charity, sir. I will be able to pay my debts, soon.”
His sea-blue gaze returned to her lips.
It was dangerous to stand there, so close to him. A little on edge, she dipped her head. “Good day, my lord. I can find my way home from here.”
She’d taken only three steps before he reached her side.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you are running from me.” He chuckled.
“Hardly,” she murmured as he once again captured her arm. “I merely wish to free you from an unnecessary obligation.”
“Escorting you is neither unnecessary nor an obligation, lass,” he replied in amusement. “Allow me to see you to your door.”
She fell silent, keenly aware of his lithe, muscular form striding so easily at her side as they crossed the park. It was only when they stopped in the street before her music shop that she spoke again.
“There is the door,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “scarce ten feet away.”
Nicholas gave an easy laugh. “As politeness decrees, I should pay your father my respects ere I leave.”
Olivia tensed and searched his face. “Surely, you have gathered my father isn’t well, my lord.”
There was only kindness in his eyes as he replied, “Then, all the more reason to pay my respects, aye?” As she slipped her hand free of his arm, he reached for her fingers and gave them a squeeze before nodding at the roof. “At the very least, I must inspect the roofers’ work.”
She couldn’t deny that request. “Very well.”
He followed her through the shop and into the back. As she stepped into the parlor, Mrs. Lambert looked up, surprised.
“You’re back, so soon?”
The soft tinkling of the piano spared Olivia a reply, but even without the distraction, she didn’t need to answer. The tightening of Mrs. Lambert’s mouth indicated that she understood that, again, something undesirable had happened.
“Soon, your luck will change, lass,” the old woman muttered, her mole hairs dipping in agreement.
The tinkling of the piano stopped, and Olivia glanced over to her father. His fingers rested on the ivory keys.
“Olivia, child,” her father said, “I swear, you’ve grown from this morning.”
“Hardly, father.” Olivia smiled and crossed the small room to straighten his hat before turning to Nicholas, who remained standing just inside the door. “Father, this is Lord Nicholas Blair.”
Nicholas bowed and stepped into the room. “Good evening, Mr. Mackenzie.”
Her father eyed him, puzzled. “Lord Blair…” Then, his eyes lit. “You came to the shop, did you not? Wanting music?”
Olivia blinked, surprised. Her father rarely remembered anyone. It had taken him a good year or more before he remembered Mrs. Lambert.
“Why, yes,” Nicholas replied with a dry smile. “I purchased a variety of works.” He shot Olivia an amused glance.
“Then, you play the violin?” her father queried.
“Nay.”
“The piano?”
