Page 15 of To Heist and to Hold

The comment was rough, self-deprecating. As if the man could not imagine that anyone could worry about him for himself alone, as if he fully believed that people could care for him only due to what he could do for them and how he benefited them.

It should not affect her as much as it did. Even so, pity for this man settled in her heart.

Though her stomach was still quite ready and willing to partake of the fare before her, she moved to the chair closest to him, placing her hand on his sleeve.

“I’m certain Mr. Teagan, and indeed everyone at Dionysus, thinks much more of you than you believe.

” She smiled. “Their loyalty is commendable.”

He looked at her hand, his expression unreadable.

When he finally did raise his gaze to hers, she sucked in a sharp breath at the pain in his eyes.

In the next instant, however, it was gone, like a mirage, leaving only cool disdain in its place.

As he continued to stare at her with something akin to defiance, she searched his face with increasing frustration for a hint of the emotion she had unintentionally seen, even as she asked herself why she wished to uncover it again.

“Do you always have such an optimistic view of others, Mrs. Marlow?”

She gave a startled laugh, pulling back from the faint censure in his voice. “I hardly think anyone would call me optimistic. But I don’t think my observation of how the people around you view you is based solely on optimism. I’m merely stating fact.”

He lifted one heavy, dark brow. “And you have managed to observe that after only two days?”

She shrugged. “Oftentimes it does not take even that long for one to get the scope of a situation. I daresay it did not take me above five minutes in your case.”

That, finally, seemed to pique his interest. He placed his fork down on his plate and turned more fully toward her, the sardonic line of his brow turning to one of curiosity.

“You must be a good judge of character, then.”

There was something almost soft and amused in the statement, as if he were teasing her.

It took her aback, that tone; it was one she had never expected from him.

Nor had she expected that his features would subtly rearrange themselves, transforming them into something even more compelling than the aloof handsomeness she had grown accustomed to.

Instead of becoming flustered, however, she felt herself relax, her stomach releasing the tension she had not even known it was holding, her posture easing. “I would not say that,” she hedged with a small smile. “But I can usually quickly understand a situation.”

His gaze roved over her face, as if he were trying to read something there. “Then tell me, Mrs. Marlow,” he murmured, “what is the situation you believe you have read here at Dionysus? Do you believe it is all rainbows and goodwill?”

She rolled her eyes. “You tease me, sir.”

“No, I am truly curious. Tell me, what is it you see?”

She pursed her lips, considering him. Yes, he was teasing her.

But there was a genuine desire to know beneath the light question.

“Very well,” she finally said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “You are a hard man, who demands the best from those around him. Yet you have not only a partner who is concerned for your well-being and makes certain you eat—”

“Which as we discussed is not due to any love for me,” he interrupted.

She held up a hand. “So you say. But if you would allow me to continue?”

He crossed his arms over his wide chest, brows drawing low again. But there was no aggravation in the action, especially when his full lips—so incredibly full—tightened at the corners in an obvious attempt to keep from smiling. An expression that made him much too attractive for her peace of mind.

“Please do, madam,” he said.

Purposely ignoring how the rough baritone of his voice ran along her skin like a physical touch, Heloise dipped her head.

“As I was saying, not only was Mr. Teagan concerned that you eat, but the maid who brought the food tray was quite at ease with you. There was no lowered head, no scurrying away, no fearful look in her eyes.” She gave him a triumphant look.

“You can tell much about a person by how their employees act around them.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded emphatically. “It is.”

“So let me understand this,” he said, the slight quirk to his lips deepening, softening his features even more.

“Because of the actions of one maid, you have come to the conclusion that everyone at Dionysus is loyal and cares a great deal about me? You must be a novelist. Your imagination knows no bounds.”

“You may laugh if you like,” she replied archly. “But it is plain as day to me.”

“Oh, I have no desire to laugh. In fact,” he continued, leaning toward her, “I find it fascinating. You have a unique way of seeing the world, Mrs. Marlow.”

Why was it, she thought a bit wildly as his face came closer to hers, so close that she could see the warm brown in the dark depths, that her heart was beating so much faster?

It felt as if it would be only too happy to burst out of her chest. Taking a steadying breath, she replied, “I have had a unique life, I suppose.”

“I do believe I would like to know more about that ‘unique life’ of yours,” he murmured. “It must have been interesting indeed.”

It was only when Heloise felt the peculiar sensation of falling headfirst into his intense gaze, wanting to tell him everything he wanted to know and more, that she finally realized the danger she was in.

What the devil was she doing? She was supposed to be seducing him, getting into his head and his bed.

She was most assuredly not supposed to make him wonder who she was and why she was here—or actually want to reveal it all to him.

That way lay only danger, for her and the rest of the Widows, not to mention Julia’s increasingly dire future.

“Oh, it is a boring story, to be sure,” she said, taking on that husky tone again.

Leaning closer, so close she could feel his breath, still sweet from the bit of pastry he had eaten, caress her face, she let her hand run up his sleeve.

“Not like your own. How fascinating it must be. But we have some time; won’t you tell me about it now? ”

Surely such a ploy would work. Euphemia had been quite adamant that men reveled in talking about themselves above all else. That, combined with her rather blatant flirting, and Mr. Sinclaire should be a puddle at her feet.

To her bafflement, however, it seemed to have the very opposite effect. At once his features closed up, the new openness gone in a blink. He physically drew away from her as well, his body angling so far from hers she would not have been surprised if he fell out of his chair.

“Your food grows cold, madam,” he said, frost settling over his voice, turning the words into unforgiving sleet that stung as they hit her. “Shall we finish our meal and get back to work?”

With that he turned to his own nearly finished plate, and though they still sat next to one another, Heloise felt as if the whole of the ocean had suddenly flooded the space between them.

Frowning, she returned to her seat and tucked into her food.

But though moments before she had been fairly salivating with hunger, now it took every morsel of effort to take even a bite, the still-warm eggs and tender ham like sawdust in her mouth.

Since her husband’s death, she had tried so very hard to make amends for her part in his passing and to honor his last wish by protecting Julia.

Yet time and time again she had failed. And if she could not recover those jewels—which, if she could not get Mr. Sinclaire to let down his guard, seemed more than a possibility—she would fail yet again.

Her fingers tightened painfully around her fork.

And that she could not do, not with Julia’s life on the line.