Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(27)

Silence blinked. She’d braced herself for shouting and anger, but so far Mickey O’Connor hadn’t shown either.

She watched as he spooned tea leaves into the teapot and crossed to the fireplace to fill the pot with hot water.

“D’ye take sugar?”

“Yes, please,” she answered.

He nodded and placed the teapot and teacup on the table before fetching a little bowl of sugar.

Silence looked at the lone teacup. “Aren’t you having any?”

Mickey O’Connor snorted. “I’d be drummed from the pirate’s guild if’n I were seen takin’ tea.”

Her lips twitched at the thought. “Then why make it for me?”

He looked at her, his eyes black and a little tired. For the first time she wondered how his “business” had gone that night. “I thought ye’d like it, Mrs. Hollingbrook. After all, ye must be near starved after two days with only the food Fionnula and the others could smuggle ye.”

Silence bit her lip. “I asked her to stop today.”

He cocked his head curiously. “Did ye now?”

Silence sat and poured herself a cup, adding a spoonful of sugar. She did like tea. When she sipped, the tea was quite good. She glanced up to find him propped against the kitchen cabinets watching her with a brooding air.

“Thank you,” she said. “How did you learn to make a good cup of tea when you don’t drink it yourself?”

His mouth tightened and he looked down at his boots. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t reply. Then he sighed. “Me mam was fond o’ tea when we could get it. I’d make it for her.”

His words were terse, but the picture he drew was sentimental. What a lovely boy he must’ve been to be so thoughtful of his mother. Silence frowned. She didn’t like thinking of him like this—as a vulnerable child, a loving son. It was much simpler to only think of him as a pirate.

“Yer tea is gettin’ cold,” he murmured.

She drank some more and his mouth softened.

“Tell me somethin’,” he said, his voice a deep, quiet rumble. “I saw ye once with the Ghost o’ St. Giles almost a year ago.”

“So you were watching me.” She set her teacup down.

Last fall she’d been caught in a riot in St. Giles and only escaped harm when the Ghost of St. Giles had saved her. She’d seen Mickey O’Connor across the street at the time and wondered why he was there.

He shrugged, unperturbed. “Aye, sometimes. Ye had me daughter after all.”

“Oh.” His explanation was rather deflating.

“D’ye know him?”

“Who?”

“The Ghost o’ St. Giles,” he said patiently. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know. He wore a mask the night he saved me from the rioters.”

“And that’s the only time ye’ve seen him?” His question was intent.

“I’ve seen him from afar, but it was certainly the only time I talked to him, although he never spoke to me.” Silence looked at him, confused. “Why do you ask?”

He shook his head, frowning absently. “No matter.”

Lad sighed loudly and slid down to lie on the floor.

Mr. O’Connor looked at the dog. “I should put him out in the courtyard.”

“But we just bathed him.”

He shot a rather frightening look at her from under his brows. “Aye, so ye did. Be a shame, I guess, to let him roll in the mud so soon.” He tilted his chin at her teacup. “Are ye finished?”

She took a last sip. “Yes.”

“Good.” He nodded and shoved away from the cupboard. “I’ll escort ye to yer room, then.”

They walked all the way back to her rooms in silence, Lad padding happily behind.

When they reached her door, Mickey exchanged nods with Harry, sitting outside, and turned to Silence. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” Silence said, her hand on the doorknob. “And thank you for the tea. It was truly delicious.”

One corner of his mouth curved. “Me pleasure.”

She began to close the door, but he stayed it with one broad hand. “One more thing. Tomorrow ye and the babe are movin’ rooms.”

Silence blinked. “Why?”

“We were followed tonight,” he said, his eyes angry. “I want ye closer to me so I can keep an eye on ye m’self.”

She frowned over that alarming news as he turned and ambled gracefully away. It wasn’t until he was nearly at the end of the hall that she remembered something.

“Where will our new rooms be?” she called after him.

He cast an inscrutable glance over his shoulder. “Next to mine.”

Chapter Five

The second night the nephews resumed their guard with renewed determination. They placed thorns beneath their clothes to keep themselves awake, refused to sit, and paced about to stimulate their senses. But despite all their efforts, once again they fell asleep. And in the morning once again they had to confess their failure to the king.

And this time when Clever John rose he found a yellow feather behind his ear….

—from Clever John

The moon was but a pale sliver in the sky when Mick stepped into the wherry the next night. He wore two pistols stuck into a belt strapped across his middle, as well as a half dozen knives hidden about his person. Tonight they raided a ship whose captain had decided to keep half of Mick’s tithe for himself. Mick signaled the other boat and the wherrymen silently pushed off from the dock. Only the quiet sound of the oars dipping into the water broke the night’s hush.