Obscenely tight breeches.
Well now. And to think, Juliet had complained there wasn’t anything of value remaining on the grounds.
Olivia begged to differ.
Neither did she make a sound to inform him of her presence. She might have been trained to teach proper behavior and exhibit it herself, but she knew enough about life and death, about expectations and disappointments to know opportunity didn’t often knock. Especially opportunities for observing and admiring a strong, sweaty man wearing absurdly tight breeches.
So she watched. And her dratted throat betrayed her, making some sort of begging, yearning noise that had her unexpected treat jerking upright and whirling around.
“Oh!” was all he said, a gruff sound of surprise.
Oh was right. Oh great day in the gloomy afternoon, she’d never seen such a handsome man. With his shirt off.
And staring right at her as though he liked what he saw.
Her.
Well now. Mayhap this wouldn’t be such an onerous task after all.
Zeus allowed his posture to relax and stepped aside when Lady Juliet’s servant brought in a tray laden with sweets and a steaming teapot, the advice—or admonishment, he hadn’t quite decided which—delivered by the daffodil on her way out still ringing in his ear: “She possesses more brains than sense, but it comes with a heart of gold. Be gentle with her.”
Gentle? What manner of treatment had this cautiously audacious lass been subjected to?
The burly man placed the tray on the table before turning to address the screen. “Milady?”
“That will be all, Jacks, thank you. Close the door and please see that we’re not disturbed.”
“Milady?” The request obviously surprised him. Which pleased Zeus to no end. So she wasn’t in the habit of secreting herself away with suitors? Realizing he was an exception, a surge of male pride stroked his ego. Made him all the more eager to stroke something of hers. Sultry lips, perhaps? Dainty feet? Everywhere in between?
“Ahem.” The man coughed loudly, making no effort to disguise his concern. “Alone, milady? Are you cer—”
“Quite. You may relax your vigil, dear Jacks,” she insisted, and Zeus fancied he heard a blush in her voice. “Leave your post. Enjoy the rest of the day,” she all but ordered, “before those encroaching clouds drench out the remaining sunshine.” Proving she could see him—him and the darkening sky through the window beyond.
The manservant cut his eyes toward Zeus, who gave a confirming nod, appearing more assured than he felt—or so he hoped. “Your lady shall come to no harm on my watch, of that I can promise.” It wouldn’t harm her if he did away with that pesky partition, now would it?
“Very good, milady.” With a diffident nod, and a slight narrowing of his gaze toward Zeus, the man quit the room by way of a reluctant backward walk.
After the door clicked shut, Zeus stood there in the stillness, curiosity—among other things—aroused. “What manner of topics shall I expound upon now? Or are you finally ready to emerge from behind your shield?” Before I rip it away?
“Partake of a scone, please,” the melodious voice demanded.
“And if I do not care for a scone?” he countered, wanting some say in this deuced lopsided encounter. But also wondering how long she intended to hide and curious how she intended to progress things from here.
She huffed, and he could just see her hands compressed in her lap, knuckles white with frustration. Although any irritation with him was completely absent in her tone when she added, “If you will please partake of a scone and a cup of tea, upon their completion I shall explain the reason behind it.”
An alarming thought struck him. “They aren’t poisoned?”
“You think—?” This time, the muffled snort sounded more like a choked gurgle. “You think, after inviting you here, after offering my hand in exchange for your money, I plan to send you out on six men’s shoulders?”
His own chuckle rumbled forth. “Put that way, I suppose not.”
“Certainly not, I assure you! I hold the men who exert themselves responding to my advertisement in the highest regard, at least until they prove themselves undeserving of said regard. Nevertheless, I would not wish to so precipitously end their existence! Poisoned scones, indeed. Shame, Mr. Tanner, for thinking such.”
“No, shame on you for hiding once these initially estimable men arrive,” he grumbled as he eased onto one of her ugly chairs and tried not to flinch when it creaked. Then creaked again when a massive bundle of marmalade fur jumped onto his lap and sunk its claws into his buckskins.
Zeus ground his teeth against the knifepoints piercing into his leg. “Who have we here?”
“Henry!” she exclaimed in astonished tones. “Mr. Tanner, count yourself among the exclusive minority who have received his approval!”
While the cat made mincemeat of his breeches, Zeus brushed one hand over its back and retrieved a scone off a horridly elegant tea service with the other. Hoping to lure her out—so he could take his measure of her exterior—he queried at his most cultured, “Would you not care for one, my lady?”
“Mayhap later. Do eat it now, please, if you would.”
Taking care with the fragile pastry, Zeus brought it to his mouth for a sizable bite.
Instead of the warm rush of buttery bliss he expected, a salty chunk of grit met his tongue.
Straining to keep his expression bland, he chewed and chewed again, trying to work up sufficient saliva to swallow the field of dirt dwelling in his mouth. Finally, fearful of choking to death, he coaxed the bite down, placed the remainder on a napkin, and took a sip of hearty tea. Returning the cup to a saucer smaller than his palm, Zeus straightened. “Er…ack…delightful.”
His thighs had gone numb, which the marmalade monstrosity made up for by standing on his hind legs to butt Zeus’ chin with his purring head before jumping down.
“Do you not seek to finish the
