Free Danger's Kiss by Glynnis Campbell Page B

your thievery.”
    “What?”
    “I require three meals a day, two if I’ve got a full work day.  Laundry once a week.  Floors swept daily.  Furnishings waxed once every — “
    “What!”
    Now they had the attention of the entire lane.  Even the constable, patrolling the shops at the opposite side of the square, paused to see why a crowd was gathering.
    “You’ll have room and board,” he murmured, “and I’ll pay you a shilling a week.”
    “I told you before,” she said, yanking her arm hard out of his grasp, “I won’t live under the roof of a lawman.”
    “Fine.”  He gathered the nape of her gown in a viselike fist and waved across the square.  “Constable!”
    She gasped.  “You’re not serious.”
    “Here, constable!”
    The constable crossed the square as casually as he could, considering the stir caused by the sound of a summons from Nicholas Grimshaw.
    “You wouldn’t,” Desirée breathed.
    He motioned the constable toward him.
    “I don’t even have the coin!” she protested.  “You have no proof!”
    “You might get off with a day in the stocks,” he admitted.
    “Damn you, Nicholas Grimshaw,” she said between her teeth, wary now of arousing the constable’s suspicions.
    “Just say the word and we’ll be on our way.”
    “Bastard!” she hissed.
    “That’s not the word.”
    The constable was but ten yards away when she finally conceded.
    “All right, you bloody knave, I’ll clean your damned hovel.”
    “And cook?”
    “Fine.”
    He released her.
    “Constable,” he said by way of greeting as the man approached.  “Come meet my new maidservant, Desirée.  Desirée, my constable.”
    The last thing Nicholas expected was Desirée’s brilliant smile and extended hand.  “Constable, my pleasure,” she gushed.
    And damned if the constable, caught off guard by her disarming greeting, didn’t absently press a kiss to the back of her hand as if she were some titled lady instead of a lowly maid.
    “Well,” the constable said, blinking in confusion.  “You’re a...a brave lass.  Not every maid would take up residence with a...with a...with Nicholas Grimshaw.”
    To his astonishment, Desirée laughed and gave Nicholas’s cheek a patronizing pat.  “He’s a kitten, really.  Wouldn’t hurt a flea.  Isn’t that right, Nicky?”
    Ballocks!  This was definitely not the sort of attention he needed.  The conniving wench was going to ruin his fearsome reputation.
    He nodded briefly to the astounded constable.  “We’ll be going now.”  He quickly ushered her away, adding loudly for the villagers’ benefit, “Have to show her how to oil my thumbscrews.”

    Desirée grinned in satisfaction.  She might not have won the battle, but she wasn’t going down without a fight. She wasn’t about to let the lout believe he could snap his fingers and summon her to his side like a trained hound.
    As he took long strides across the square, making her scramble to keep up, he muttered, “Don’t call me that.”
    “Call you what?”
    She could hear him growling behind his teeth.  “Nicky.”
    She smiled again.  Of course, now she’d call him Nicky at every opportunity.  If she proved irritating enough, perhaps her forced residence at the house of the unpleasant Nicholas Grimshaw might be cut short.
    As they wound through the streets, she asked sweetly, “How’s Snowflake?”
    His annoyed silence was reward enough.
    Nicholas Grimshaw might have extorted housekeeping services out of her, but in exchange, she could make his household miserable.
    Scarcely had she dropped her satchel onto the floor of the cottage when her new slave master began listing her duties for the evening.  Biting the inside of her cheek to stifle her simmering temper, she remained silent while he dictated his supper requirements and pointed out the various kitchen utensils.
    But it didn’t take long, after Nicholas had drawn himself a draught of ale and retired to his bedchamber, for