Page 72 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
The pause told her he had misspoken. She did not think this man did that often. He hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“You must ask him to explain.”
Anger tightened his voice, directed at whom, she did not know. Mr. Gibson perhaps. Not at herself, certainly, because as they entered the inn, Mr. Kincaid turned to her with a kind look.
One lone maid—this one older, respectably dressed—worked the bar in the taproom. Two men put down their tankards and stood when they saw her, and started in their direction. Kincaid nodded to them.
“Do you know them?” she whispered.
“Aye. Good men, they are. We are dead on our feet. They will be keeping watch for a bit.”
Watch for what?And then she remembered: Agruen. Perhaps he had another evil servant to send after her.
There was no time to ask questions, as Kincaid led her through a door into a private eating room. Her eyes fixed on Mr. Gibson. Color rose under the stubble of his cheeks, and his lips curved up.
His beard had roughened over the course of the day, and she itched to strip off her gloves andfeelhim, and that thought made her face as warm as his must be.
