Free Moonglow by Kristen Callihan

though a fetching pink flush colored her cheeks. He snapped his mouth shut. “Fuck me,” he breathed with genuine surprise. So rare that anything truly shocked him these days.
    Her flush grew. “Thank you, but no.”
    Ian shook his head to clear it. He felt dizzy, as though he’d been running and had come to a sudden stop. Jesus, but this woman kept him on his toes. “I’d say you were bamming me if it weren’t all true.”
    The table creaked as she leaned in on her elbows, coming close enough that his insides heated again. He resisted the urge to pull away, if only to clear his reeling head. Her voice came at him in a satisfied purr. “And you had black tea and toast with bitter marmalade for breakfast.”
    Heads turned at his shout of laughter. He ignored them in favor of the golden-haired olfactory genius sitting before him. Her sense of scent was as good as his, ifnot better, as he studiously ignored his for fear of being overwhelmed.
    Daisy dropped her gaze and went back to eating with methodical determination.
    “I’m a nose,” she said between bites.
    “I should say so.”
    She glanced up. “It’s an undignified talent for a lady to possess, I’m told.” Her shoulders lifted. “However, quite useful in detecting strange men intent on following my person.”
    “I’d say it was bloody brilliant,” he countered. “Strange men or no.”
    Her lids lowered as she took a sip of her ale. “Why is it that you are following me?”
    Wariness fairly hummed about her, as if she were bracing herself for his retaliation, believing that he would want revenge for the way she’d put him in his place.
    Admittedly, the idea had occupied his thoughts, but sitting with her now, retaliation was the furthest thing from his mind; he was enjoying himself too much. The experience was so novel to him now that he wanted to bask in it, the same way his wolf liked to lie out in the moonlight and soak up its strength.
    His reply was forestalled as a short, portly fellow stomped up onto one of the center tables and made himself heard. “All right, gents. Now then, it be well known I’m a man of my word.”
    A collective groan went through the room, and the man waved another hand. “Aye, I know. But”—he slapped his hands together—“a bet’s a bet. I lost, and it’s me turn to settle accounts.”
    “What’s the damage this time then, Gus?” shouted a man to Ian’s right.
    “An ode. By yours truly. Public’s choice.”
    Instantly, the men and women in the tavern began calling suggestions. “Do Gladstone!”
    “The Queen!”
    Funny how Ian could feel Daisy’s cunning smile. Foreboding had his shoulders tightening as he turned. Her grin was that of a child at Christmas. “Marquis of Northrup,” she shouted.
    Gus, who had been considering offers with a very serious air, jumped at the opening. “There,” he cried. “Now that’s a superior toff what’s worth me song.”
    Ian resisted the urge to slide down in his chair. If only they knew that said toff was sitting among them.
    Daisy laughed, her eyes resolutely not on him, which only made her notice of his every move all the more obvious.
    Gus cleared his throat as the crowd went silent in expectation. His voice came out surprisingly clear and fine. “O woe is to be that lofty he. Our fine dandy, the Infamous Lord Northrup. How it pains the dears, this gentle’ man hears, that he can’t get it up for a tup!” Triumphant, Gus held out his empty mug as he sang on: “O have ye sers a dram to spare, so’s he can find his courage in a cup!”
    The tavern shook with the roar of laughter. Ian refused to flush. Blast if that damn ode wouldn’t be sung on every street corner by nightfall. Courage in a cup indeed.
    Daisy’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she caught his gaze, and the crowd went back to shouting out requests. The corners of her mouth dimpled as she held back a smile and the urge to laugh suddenly bubbled up within him. Either that or punch