Page 65 of Peasants and Kings
In a gesture that surprised both of us, I stroked my finger along his jawline. It was stubbly, the beginning of his beard growing in.
He turned his head ever so slightly so that his lips grazed my fingers.
“I’m going to learn everything there is to know about you.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” I said lightly, dropping my hand and lifting my glass of wine.
“Not a challenge. A promise,” he vowed.
I had to stop the arrow of nerves that shot through my belly. The danger wasn’t that Hadrian was determined to learn everything about me, it was that I wanted to confide in him all that there was. But I could never entrust anyone with the knowledge I possessed—the knowledge I’d burned to ashes and washed away.
Our dinner was leisurely and as the wine flowed, I felt myself relaxing in his presence. In spite of the alcohol, I managed to keep my wits about me, knowing that Hadrian had the force and drive of a battering ram, and that he would stop at nothing to get something genuine out of me.
He cut off a sliver of his steak and set it on my plate. “Try it.”
The meat was tender and rich, and I had to stop a moan of delight. I took my time savoring it and was just about to ask if I could have another piece when Hadrian obliged without me having to say a word. He grinned, obviously pleased that I was enjoying myself.
“What will I do?” I asked him in between bites.
“Do?”
“I assume you’ll be occupied during the days, doing whatever it is you do that allows you to offer me such a generous sum for my time…” It was as close to an outright question about how he made his money as I would dare to ask.
“Aye.”
Disgruntled that he hadn’t taken the bait about his work, I repeated my question. “So, what will I do?”
“You mean how will you occupy yourself while you’re waiting for me?”
I scrunched my nose at him.
He chuckled. “I have horses. You can ride.”
“I’ve never ridden a horse.”
“Then I’ll teach you,” he said. “I’m sure I can drag myself away from work long enough to show you how to ride properly.”
I stemmed the flow of excitement for the possibility of getting to experience something that I had never had enough money to pursue. “Okay, what else is there to do in Shetland?”
“I have a pool. You can swim. I have a library. You can read. You can walk on my beach—”
“Yourbeach?”
He paused, as if weighing what he was about to say. “Aye. My beach.”
“Like, your own beach?” I asked, seeking clarification.
Hadrian nodded once, a quick slash of his head.
How much money did he have that he could afford to own a private beach? I dismissed the thought, realizing he had enough money that he wouldn’t miss a million dollars.
“Do you get to enjoy your own beach?” I asked. “Or do you constantly travel for work?”
“Actually, I don’t travel for work often. I prefer the seclusion of Shetland and work from home most of the time.”
We continued to devour our entrees—and much to my surprise, Hadrian let me have his entire steak when he saw how much I relished it.
He was strange, this man. Commanding, intense, mysterious, and yet his focus was on me and my pleasure. Even when it came to food.
