Page 106 of For a Scot's Heart Only
“Of course not,” he said, dipping his head to hers. “You merely redesign the realm’s coins to suit your needs.”
Which oddly made her laugh. She had confessed an awful lot at Chelsea Physic Gardens. And she couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d stripped naked like a wanton at his command.
She bumped her hip companionably to his. “I’d rather we talk about you.”
“What about me?”
Oh, he was adorably stoic.
“Well, there is a very interesting scar on the bottom of your... bottom.”
“Why, Miss Fletcher, I do believe you’re flirting with me.” He waved vaguely at cobblestones stretching before them. “In public, no less.”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
“It’s proof—pigs do indeed fly.”
“Why do you say that?”
An innocent question. But Thomas had gone a touch rigid beside her. Chirping birds poked around the front steps of a home they passed while Thomas appeared to consider how he’d answer her.
“The truth is you were a favorite topic amongst the merchants, sailors, and dockside workers at Mr. Dorrien-Smith’s King Edward Street warehouse.”
“I wasn’t aware.”
“You were focused and we were men with too much time on our hands. Usually, one of two aspects were discussed.” He sucked in a chest-expanding breath. “Your charms or your chilliness.”
“I see.”
He brushed a fingertip across his brow. “Not very gentlemanly, I admit.”
They passed a home, its lacy curtains drawn back. She tried not to look, but the scene behind wavy-paned windows drew her, nonetheless. A mother mending a shirt while two boys played with blocks on the floor. On the settee, an elderly woman, a grandmother possibly, was reading aloud to a little girl. Mary craned her neck to one side as though she could hold on to that tender scene while walking by. How quaint Dowgate was, where mums and grandmums cared for and educated their children. A graceful, timeless way of life because some things never changed—men and their ways included.
“Do you know what I think?” She posed this, humbled. “If historians had recorded ancient dockside conversations, they’d be as earthy then as they are today.” She was subdued, adding, “Age to age, men never change.”
“You’re not upset?”
She was surprised at how fervently she wanted to spare Thomas his discomfort.
“Not at all. We’re bound to discover unsavory things about each other, but if we don’t shed light on them, we’ll not advance our—”
“Friendship.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled, causing a silly glow to blossom in her chest.
“You and I already carry on like two lechers at midnight. Why not broach delicate topics midmorning with equal enthusiasm?”
Laughter shot out of Thomas. “Indeed.”
She blushed, thrilled to her toes. The proper shopkeeper she used to be would never have jested about midnight debauchery. Could be she was improving, this friendship with Thomas and all. She grinned like a village fool at nothing in particular.
Daytime promenades with Thomas—she could get used to them.
“Please, tell me about the King Edward Street warehouse,” she said.
“Not much to tell. It was our primary market for years. I was in and out, more a man of the sea than commerce.”
“That all changed after your father died, no?”
