“It was half price. That’s hardly giving it away.”
“—and I don’t need you to tell me how to runmytavern. Just serve the beer. Pour the gin. And if someone starts trouble, bosh them over the head.”
“Bosh them?”
“Yes.”
“You make me sound like a mindless brute.”
“That’s what I need.”
“No, it isn’t.”
She looked as surprised as he did. Why had he said that? He had no idea what she needed. But he knew what he needed, and just maybe, for once, they needed the same thing. He reached out and took a lock of her hair, running it through his hand then winding it about his fingers until she moved closer to avoid having her hair pulled.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he put his other hand on her waist and tugged her against him. Her voice was still hard, but he heard the way it hitched.
“I’m about to kiss you,” he said.
She shook her head “No, you’re not.”
“Yes. I am.” He released her hair and slid his hand through it to cup the back of her neck. “Last chance to tell me to stop.” He lowered his lips, pausing just a fraction from her mouth. She tensed, and he thought she would come to her senses and shove him away. Instead, her arms went about his neck, and she closed the distance between their lips.
And yet, when their lips touched, it was soft and almost tender. He brushed his mouth over hers, taking in the feel of her softness, admiring the shape of her mouth, now that it wasn’t pressed into a thin line. She explored him as well then pressed closer until their mouths met again. They kissed, pulledback, kissed again. King growled low and claimed her mouth, deepening the kiss and taking what he wanted. He was aware of her heat, her softness, the faint scent of beer and the stronger tang of the soap. He moved his hand on her waist lower to curve it around the fullness of her hip. From there he couldn’t help but slide a bit lower to take hold of her bottom. It was round and firm, a good handful.
She made a sound between pleasure and dismay and closed her hand in his hair, tugging his mouth down so she could taste more of him. She tasted of wine, the sweet wine that cost a penny and that the lower classes drank watered down. He pushed her back against the counter he slept beneath and lifted her onto it, sliding between her legs. She closed them around him, and he pressed close. The heat of their bodies colliding shocked both of them. King’s heart beat so loudly he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, which were basically a chant totake her nowand not very profound. He supposed there might be a smaller voice telling him he would regret taking this further, but he was good at ignoring that voice.
Apparently, Miss Baker had the same voice, and she was less skilled at ignoring it, because she pushed him back and broke the kiss. “We can’t do this,” she said, voice breathless. Her entire face was flushed now, and her eyes were bright and so very blue.
He moved to kiss her again, but her hand was between them. “Yes, we can,” he said. “We’ll just regret it in the morning.” He dipped his head and kissed the pulse beating rapidly at her throat. “Then we tiptoe around each other and pretend it never happened until tomorrow night, when we do it all over again.”
She let out a small laugh, and the sound surprised him. He’d so rarely heard her laugh. “That’s a horrible idea.”
“I’m known for my horrible ideas, and here’s the thing about horrible ideas—they’re only horrible after the fact. At the time, they’re usually extremely enjoyable.” He bent to kiss thatfluttering pulse again, but she pushed him back. Obviously, she wouldn’t be persuaded. And he was not the sort of man to coax a woman to his bed. She either wanted him and came willingly or not at all.
King stepped back, raking a hand through his hair. “Give me a minute,” he said, stepping aside and putting his hands on the counter. His cock was hard and eager, and he had to think of cold baths, ice, and snow. He reminded himself he didn’t even like this termagant.
Beside him, Miss Baker jumped down and smoothed a hand over her skirts. Then she gasped. “I cannot believe I forgot!” He gave her a sidelong look, slightly annoyed at how easily her ardor faded, and she pulled a slip of paper from her skirts. “This is for you,” she said. “An old woman came in this morning and left it for you.”
King took the yellowed paper, carefully, as it was particularly thin and brittle. Something about the feel of it, the ancient scent of it, sent a shudder skittering up his spine. “You said an old woman gave this to you? What did she look like?”
Miss Baker frowned at him. “She was thin and bony, with long white hair, and very old, seventy or eighty at least.”
“Had you seen her before?”
“No.”
“What else?” He took hold of her shoulder, and she began to look concerned. “Tell me everything you remember.”
“She had a Scottish accent, rather thick. She said she was looking for you and that I had been kind to you.” She looked up at him then, perhaps expecting him to argue.
“Go on.”
“I said you owed me money, and she said she could believe that. She said you owed her a whiskey.”
King’s fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Anything else?”
“She said to give you this and that she’d come back when you were here. Do you know her?”
