Page 32 of Devil in Her Details

She’d also had an epiphany about how he’d learned of her work.

His brother must have overheard from Allie and Leo. That was the only thing that made sense. Those two lived in their own little world, leaving the rest of the outside world quite envious. Of course, such a charmed state also had its drawbacks. How much had her friends revealed within earshot of Dagger’s brother?

Enough, that’s how much.

She loved Allie dearly, truly she did, but her friend had never once in her life lowered her voice for the sake of discretion. Leo was hardly better. In London, the situation was different. They wouldn’t utter a word in public. But here in Brighton, the circles of London seemed far away, and one could easily forget that people still took notice.

Lilly sighed.

No use in dwelling on that now, was there? What had been done had been done. And what about having enough money to last him lifetimes? Just who was he? Who was his family? What did they do?

What could possibly make him so much money that he could make such a bold statement with unflinching ease? She didn’t know much about being an owner of an inn, if he even was, but that could scarcely make lifetimes of income. Or perhaps she was thinking too narrowly. After all, if he ran the inn for a lifetime, it might well sustain one—but several? Not the sort of wealth he had spoken of. That seemed a bit of a stretch.

Unless . . .

Unless the inn was simply the face he showed the world while something far less respectable filled his coffers. The thought ought to have alarmed her. Instead, it only made her more curious.

Her gaze dropped back to the dagger resting atop a square of leather, its immaculate blade stark against the black hide. He hadn’t expressed his preference for color, so she’d chosen black, matching the panther she could not help but envision when she thought of him.

Graceful.

Elegant even. In a diamond-in-the-rough sort of way.

So many questions clouded her mind still. Had she invited more trouble into her life by “hiring” him? Could she trust a man like him to protect her? A man who asked for one kiss as payment? Should she be more scared? If she relied on his protection, did she risk trading one trap for another? After all, Calvington was a marquess. Dagger . . . who knew what that man was? Granted, he had implied he was rich, so he’d have no use for her dowry. Assuming he already knew her identity, of course. She had no reason to suspect he did . . .

She couldn’t dismiss the possibility either.

But the kiss!

This was the main reason why the man hadn’t left her thoughts all morning. She had managed to keep the more intrusive misgivings at bay after their encounter—along with those inconvenient flushes of intrigue—but sleep had stripped away those defenses. The moment she’d opened her eyes this morning, every memory of the previous day came rushing back.

Lilly groaned.

Should she just kiss him when she met him next and be done with the payment? At least then she wouldn’t be plagued by all the different ways she might repay him. And how. Honestly, did the man expect a kiss on the cheek or on the lips? A peck or something deeper? Quick or lingering? She didn’t have any experience with kissing men. Had never kissed one except for her brother on the cheek. Should she, perhaps, practice?

If only her wire frames had heads . . .

Urgh, Lilly. No.

She lifted her hand to study the back of it. Hadn’t she overheard a group of girls once chitter about practicing on themselves? She brought the back of her hand to her lips and placed a quick peck there.

Very well. Not bad.

She tried again, this time a soft, lingering press.

Hmm.

Her skin was quite soft, if she did say so herself. But she wouldn’t be kissing her hand when she kissed him, would she? She’d be kissing him. She quite imagined every part of his body to be as hard as the man himself.

His touch was gentle.

True.

Ah, but his eyes had been impossibly hard when he’d caught a glimpse of her bruises. The starting point of all her hot flushes. Never had a man shown so much indignant fury on her behalf. Well, her brother, naturally, but he didn’t count. The memory of the panther’s look sent an instant wave of heat across her cheeks.

Let’s not think about that.

She eyed the back of her hand with growing curiosity. Should she? Just once? After all, she might seize the chance to attempt something a touch more . . . thorough. Venture beyond a mere peck.