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There was, after all, never a stare so blatant as the one that carefully evaded its object.
“The unfun one.” She rocked back at the description. Was that what people said about her? She hated the little flare of sadness that came at the words. The hesitation. The tiny glimmer of fear that he might actually be correct.
“I imagine it is where I left it. In the Liverpool hedge.” She rather enjoyed the way his throat worked in the moment of silence following her announcement. “You left my Hessian in a hedge.” “You left me in a hedge,” she pointed out. “I had no use for you.” “Well, I had no use for your boot.”
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“Also, I never declared you uninteresting.” “No. I believe you used the term unfun, which is even more unflattering, as it appears that I am so deeply boring that I require a word that, prior to today, did not exist.” “It’s not the same thing at all.” He was hard-pressed to think of an adjective less suited to Lady Sophie Talbot than uninteresting.
“Excellent,” said the doctor, seemingly unaware of the discussion around him, snipping the string on his perfect row of stitches and halting King’s thoughts as he produced a pot of honey. “What is that for?” King asked. “For her wound,” the man said, simply, spreading the golden stuff over the wound as though it was perfectly normal. “She’s not toast.”
“Interesting. I would have wagered that it hurts like a bastard.” It did, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “You shouldn’t use that word in front of a lady.” “No? You realize you’ve an affinity for certain foul language yourself.” She blushed. “One word.” “One is all you require.” She looked to her lap as he said, “Does it hurt?” Like a bastard.
“Women are known for their ability to endure pain.” “Mmm. And to think you are considered the weaker sex.” She cut him a look. “A label no doubt assigned by a man who never witnessed a childbirth.”
Well, he wanted her. But he did not want to want her. “That’s a semantic argument.” Had he spoken aloud? No. She meant the looking.
“Thank me when we’re off,” he said, pushing her toward his nearby chest. “You must dress. You’re leaving the pub the same way you came in.” “Shot and passed out?” John asked.
