Page 8 of Devil in Her Details

A single, firm nod. “Will you have me?”

Lilly’s lips parted at the question. Would she have him? Yes, please. Lilly! Right. No having. Absolutely . . . no. This was not a man to “have.”

Or to hold.

Mercy. What rubbish was her mind even conjuring? The man might embody the very essence of a black panther, but one indisputable fact couldn’t be denied: The devil had just entered her shop.

But just what services did he want?

*

What in Christ’s name had prompted him to agree to this? Bloody Reaper. That arse. He’d been so damn caught off guard when their eyes met, he’d continued right past the shop. Only to repeat the same damn thing.

Gutting his brother would be too good a fate.

Did he even have his facts straight? This woman did not bear an ounce of resemblance to a milliner. He’d almost questioned if he’d had the right shop, but that would be impossible since he’d confirmed the location beforehand and had been keeping an eye on the shop since it had opened that morning. Not that he could claim milliners had any sort of distinct stamp. But the working class carried a presence about them that this woman lacked. She reminded him more of Maxen and Drake’s wives. Refined. Surrounded by an elegance that only those people possessed.

Aristocracy.

Dagger inwardly sighed.

Had Brighton grown several notches in popularity? What the devil drew the noble ladies to set up shop in their town and cause havoc? Not that he cared all that much, outside the fact that if there was a lady rebelling in Brighton, trouble soon followed. He knew that from bloody experience. And if his gut proved him right, and she was no mere milliner, she hid herself poorly. On the other hand, he’d be a fool to attempt to guess at the whims of women. He simply wasn’t that smart.

Her chin lifted in subtle dominance, and his gaze dropped to the faint flush that crept up her throat.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t have you.”

His gaze lifted to meet hers again, his brow furrowing at the way she slowly pronounced each word. “I was told—”

“Right.” She crossed her arms. “Just where did you hear about me?”

Dagger stilled, fingers curling slightly at his side, sensing danger. He’d miscalculated. The moment he’d stepped through that door, he’d miscalculated, and the evidence was standing in front of him staring at him like a pistol cocked.

Damnation.

His mind raced with everything he’d picked up on so far, what kind of person he was dealing with. A grave error had been made on their part. Whoever this woman was and whatever she did, her dealings were a secret.

“Was I not supposed to hear anything?” He slowly arched a brow. “I need a belt strap for my daggers. I was directed to you.”

She looked at him as if she had not quite heard aright. “Daggers? As in the ones with the steely points?”

Dagger almost smiled. “Is there any other kind?”

“Well, who knows?” She gave him a slow once-over. “Dagger might be a code word for something else.”

His lips twitched. “Not the daggers I’m referring to.” There was nothing coded about his steel. They were genuine articles.

“I see.” She gave a thoughtful pause before asking, “And just who referred you to my shop?”

Persistent woman. “People chatter.”

Her pretty honey-brown eyes, the same shade as her messily pinned hair, narrowed. “Yes, but you were directed to me. I am ever curious by whom, since I’ve only recently settled here.”

Hell’s bells. Persistent and suspicious. He wouldn’t be able to shrug this off. So he cast Reaper to the wolves and told the truth. “My brother.”

Surprise flashed over her features, and she regarded him expectantly, indicating he should elaborate.

Dagger didn’t. She’d have to be happy with that. After all, he’d answered her question.