Free The Legend of Lyon Redmond by Julie Anne Long Page B

didn’t even turn. “Well. Good afternoon, Miss Eversea.”
    His voice was scarcely above a murmur.
    â€œWhy, good afternoon, Mr. Redmond. Have you an interest in history?”
    â€œAs a matter of I’m positively fascinated by the events of the past. Specifically, the events of last night.”
    â€œLast night . . . do you mean the first time you stole a waltz?”
    He smiled. “I still refuse to feel chagrin.”
    â€œYou did indeed do me a charity, for Lord Cambersmith would have trod upon my foot. He always does.”
    â€œYou see? I am a veritable Robin Hood of the ballroom.”
    â€œDidn’t Robin Hood give to the poor?”
    â€œOh, but I did. I gave to poor me, who had heretofore gone my entire life without dancing with you.”
    She stifled a laugh at that.
    He turned. “I have already made a purchase.” He gestured with the book beneath his arm. “I just wanted to make certain I didn’t leave the shop before I ascertained there was nothing else in the store I wanted.”
    â€œVery thorough of you,” she said, her voice just barely above a hush. “I should hate for you to forgo something you want.”
    He approved of that saucy little sentence with a slow smile she felt in her solar plexus.
    â€œWhat’s that in your hand, Miss Eversea? Have you brought me a love letter?”
    Olivia stifled shocked laughter. Then reflexively whipped the pamphlet behind her back.
    â€œI’m terribly sorry, was that too bold?” He was all mock somber contrition.
    â€œHush. No. I’m difficult to shock. I’ve a number of rather lively brothers, you know. One becomes inured to being startled.”
    â€œOh yes. Everyone knows about your lively brothers, Miss Eversea. Very well. Difficult to shock, is it? Have a care, or I may consider that a challenge.”
    â€œI personally find challenges invigorating.”
    â€œBold words from a woman who doesn’t want toshow me whatever it is you’re holding, because she’s afraid of what I’ll say about it.”
    Damn. This was precisely true and she blinked at being skewered with the truth.
    He raised his eyebrows in a challenge.
    â€œIt’s true. I don’t want to show it to you,” she admitted. Quite pleased with him, perversely.
    â€œOh God. Is it because . . . is it because it’s a . . . poem?” he said with such crestfallen trepidation she burst out laughing and then clapped her hand over her mouth.
    â€œIf you’d told me you liked poetry I would have stayed up the entire night to write a poem about you, Miss Eversea. And I never thought I’d say that to a soul in my entire life.”
    â€œFear not. It’s not a poem. And I shouldn’t wish for you to endure that ordeal. Particularly because nothing rhymes with Olivia.”
    â€œNothing rhymes with ‘beautiful,’ either. But for you I would undertake the challenge.”
    Her breath snagged in her throat.
    She’d heard that sort of compliment a dozen or so times before.
    But somehow the way Lyon Redmond said it made her understand precisely what he saw and felt when he looked at her, and what he saw and felt were very adult, very complex things, indeed. “Beautiful” was not a word to be taken, or delivered, lightly.
    The backs of her arms heated, and she prayed it wouldn’t turn into a blush.
    â€œYou are very bold, Mr. Redmond,” she managed finally. A little subdued.
    â€œAm I?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “I’ve never been accused of such a thing. I thought I was simply being truthful.”
    â€œTruthful, and a bit of a rogue.”
    He smiled slowly, crookedly, pleased with that assessment, apparently.
    â€œWhat will you do, Mr. Redmond, if you ever succeed in genuinely scandalizing me?”
    â€œIf I do, you’ll forgive me straight away.” He said this with a little shrug that was both thrilling and