Page 25 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
He shook his head.
She concentrated harder. “Me husband holds my hand.” Eachhwas pushed out with a huff. “Me husband holds my hand.”
He still shook his head.
“I’m saying theh’s.”
He grinned. “My husband holds my hand.”
“Me—” She abruptly cut off her words, obviously understanding her error. “Myhusband holds my ’and. Damn it! Hand.”
He nodded. “There you go. Lesson done.”
“No, it ain’t!” Then she cursed under her breath. “No, it isn’t. This takes practice.”
“So go practice.”
“With you. You’re the only one around oo speaks properly.”
That was certainly true. “Then talk. I’ll let you know when it’s wrong.”
“No. I ’ave—have t’ hear you talk back.”
He grunted in answer, then grinned when her sigh filled the clearing. He was purposely aggravating her because she’d been plaguing him all morning. And all last night. But that wasn’t her fault, he supposed, so in the name of justice, he relented.
“Tell me why you want these lessons so badly.”
“I want t’ learn, same as you wanted to learn how to throw knives.”
“Not the same. I have need at times to hurt a man from a distance. You have no need to sound any different than you do.”
“And wot do you know about me needs?”
“My needs.”
“What?”
“Don’t say ‘me needs.’Myneeds.Myhusband.”
“Oh.Myneeds.Myhusband.” She not only copied his words, but his inflection as well. She had the gift of a mimic, and thatwould help her enormously in this task. But there was more to being a lady than words. And nothing could make this sow’s ear into a silk purse. Nothing. But he already knew telling her would do no good. So instead of worrying about her, he focused on his task. Sighting his target, he angled his body how he wanted. Then he drew and threw in one single movement.
Thunk.
Good throw.
Nearly perfect, in fact. And her appreciative whistle made his satisfaction thrum harder. Until he’d realized what had happened. He didn’t want to draw pleasure from her admiration. It was a trap as sure as iron bars.
“Tell me about wot—what—got you traveling with Lord and Lady Linsel.”
He hadn’t told her to correctwottowhat, but she’d heard it and done it anyway. Well done, he thought, but instead of voicing that aloud, he aimed and threw again.
A miss. Not even hitting a tree trunk but toppling into the dirt before rolling to an ignominious stop.
“What do you think brought me here?”
“Do others like it when you don’t answer their questions?”
He glanced back in surprise. “They don’t usually care. Most of my associates like to guess at my life. They call me a man of mystery.” Or at least the silly ones did.
